


A War of Shadows

by Fly09Fire



Category: Horizon: Zero Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Animals are Returning, Deeper into the World of HZD, Drama & Romance, Everyone loves Aloy, F/M, Future Fic, More Sub-Functions, Mystery, Mystery Signal, New Programs, Post-Canon, Slow Romance, a sequel of sorts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2018-10-24 01:21:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 75,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10731219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fly09Fire/pseuds/Fly09Fire
Summary: Aloy wanders six years after the battle of the Spire. Nora ways are too stilted and Avad's affections are stifling. Erend wants her to drink with him, Talanah wants her to hunt with her. Elida wants her to shop with her, Vanasha wants her to sit the council so she won't be the only woman.Nil has been missing since the Battle of the Spire, and Aloy remembers every day how he only showed up because of her.She returns to Meridian between her travels for Avad's council. The last time she returned Avad had a new project - The fighting pits across the Sundom. But there's a fighter, a man who never speaks except into the ear of his dying foe. The Whisper of Death, the call him, and he wants the pits to remain open, him and his mysterious sponsor.But then animals begin popping up. Not boar or geese or the other pests that roamed her world. The people are taming beasts long thought to be dead, and Aloy is determined to find out where they're coming from, before the sun rises, and the shadows claim their blood once again.





	1. Aloy

 

 

Aloy visited Elisabet every year, on the day she first found her. She would travel to the house, GAIA called it a ranch, the same week every year. She liked to ride on the Strider, imagining Elisabet riding whatever lived back then. She’d heard GAIA call it a horse in one of the data logs and tried to picture it, thick like the Strider, stocky and powerful, with hair like a fox’s or racoons, because that was the only hair she’d ever really felt on an animal. She’d tend the gardens, weed and prune the flowers. She’d never been one for such domestic things like that – the only preservation in her nature was her will of the fighter, as Uthid called it. But she couldn’t deny the pride she felt when the purple petals of the Dusk Blossoms bloomed in the shape of a Focus around Elisabet’s grave.

She’d started working on the house as well. It started with cleaning out the rubble. She’d begun on her own, then overridden a Broadhead to help speed things along. A year later, during her third visit, she began tending the gardens, keeping the area clean, planting the Dusk Blossoms, and then brought Sun Drop seeds from Meridian to plant around the perimeter. On her fourth journey she brought two Shell-Walker’s and a heard of Lancehorn’s with her, and the three of them began to build, plough and make the earth into something she was sure Elisabet be proud of. Her fifth year was the first she sat back and enjoyed the work she’d done... for all of half a day, before she decided to add a few personal touches. An attempt at a fountain soon became a man - woman made lake when she discovered an underground water supply, perhaps once an old well. She brought fish to live there, trout she’d carried in a wooden bowl from the river a few miles away. She built an archery range in the cliffs behind the ranch, her own mini proving course. She had to keep at the top of her game, after all.

Today, though, it was hot, and she had no wish to run her obstacle course. She’d fed her fish, weeded her gardens and made sure the house wouldn’t be falling down anytime soon. Now, she was sitting amongst her flowers. Her fingers played with the grass stems growing from Elisabet’s grave, marked by a stone Aloy had carved herself, into the shape of a triangle – she was no Stone Mason, and it was as close to a Focus as she could get.

“So... my year? Do you really want to hear about my year?” Aloy laughed, as she usually did when she talked to herself or Elisabet. “Avad is still requesting I take up permanent residence in Meridian, but you and I both know that’s a not going to happen. But... I’m on his council. Yes, I finally caved. But it’s only part time, when I’m travelling through the Sundom. He tells me he seeks my advice, but...” But she knew what he really sought, but saying it out loud made it something she would eventually have to confront. “I shouldn’t be so harsh, he mourned Ersa for a long time. I think it’s what made him choose Errand as the Oseram envoy for the council. He was the only one he could share her with.” Aloy rolled her eyes to the sky. “I shouldn’t complain. They’re both good to me. Errand doesn’t drink as much as he used to... what does he call it? Social Drinking.” She laughed, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t call how he gets ‘Social’. Let’s see, the good, the good... Ah! Talanah’s making progress with the Hunter’s Lodge. They accepted a Banuk warrior two seasons past, I think her names Linea. She sings her songs all the time, but Talanah actually likes that. Avad’s new reform is moving slowly, but at least it’s moving.

“It’s spring now. It’s always spring when I come see you. It’s when your flowers bloom.” Aloy smiled at her Dusk Blossoms, reached over and plucked one between her thumb and first finger. She twirled it, her grip soft. “GAIA never told me if you liked flowers, but I think that you did. You liked watching things grow, watching them become what they were always meant to be.” She placed the flower on the grave, tucking it in amongst the grass stems.

The sun was beginning to sink towards the horizon. Clouds alight with fire raced each other across the sky, gold in their wake, chasing the sun, twilight stars twinkling in their wake. Behind her, Aloy watched her shadow crawl across the ground, silent, looming larger every second.

_As the Sun lowers, the shadows grow. Yet when it rises a Shadow is never more clear. Can the Shadow every truly escape from the love it has for the Sun?_

She frowned, forcing Nil’s anecdotal crap from her head. She was surprised she remembered it at all, a guilt rushed that realisation that she was in danger of forgetting the Hunter’s voice, nature, being. It was the only thing she didn’t like to talk to Elisabet about. Nil was the only one unaccounted for after the battle of the Eclipse. Others died, some in the field, some later from their wounds. But his body was never found, and none of the medics reported treating any wounds for a man of his description. It felt wrong to speak of a man so intent on being forgotten. All by her.

“I never really understood why he wanted to die by my hand,” Aloy murmured, not diving into those memories, more like dipping her toe in. “Maybe he did. That battle happened because of me. Maybe it was the only reason he showed up at all.”

The wind blew, nimble fingers running through her red locks. _Kissed by fire,_ Nil had called it, and her cheeks flushed against her will. Elisabet’s breeze soothed the traitorous burn in her cheeks, like a whisper in her ear that it was okay to think about Nil sometimes, to feel guilty over his death and smile at his laugh or the way he smiled with one half of his mouth. It was hard not to feel guilty all the time, but she always listened to Elisabet.

So she thought about her last hunting trip with Talanah instead, recounting the tale for Elisabet. They’d been tracking a Snapmaw in the southern Sundom’s rivers, rumoured to be twice the size of a regular ‘maw. Talanah had been on point, Aloy letting the Sun Hawk lead. She smiled as she remembered the bushes rustling, and Talanah rushing for the sound. A boar had been snuffling around and, spooked by the screaming huntress, had chased her all the way into the water. Talanah had stunk of wet boar for a week. Aloy could smell it even now.

The wind blew through the clearing, a chill to it, a warning. Aloy’s head tilted as Dusk Blossom wafted through, mingled with the fresh breeze and the smell of wet fur. A deep splash brought Aloy to her feet, whirling on her fish pond. The water rippled, crashing over the rocks, something swirling in the depths below. Her bow was outside the Dark Blossoms, laying in the grass. She rolled for it, notched her arrow and drew as she came up on her knee, aiming at the pond. Boars liked her lake in the spring and summer seasons, the shallow water and mud bottom a haven for their itchy heated skin, and she was low on furs. It would need a clean, good thing it was already wet.

She waited. One heartbeat. Two. Her arm never shook, her sight never wavered, but when the water burst apart her arrow loosed wide from shock, shattering against the rocks. A dark shaggy head bobbed above the water, droplets running through sopping wet fur. Small, black eyes found her, blinking slowly. It took one step from the pool, then another, four feet lumbering out of the water and onto the ground. A fish wiggled in its huge snout, caught between white teeth as huge as her spear head.

Aloy backed up. Her bow dropped from her fingers, shock a cruel and ill-timed paralysis. She’d never seen anything like this beast before. It ambled towards her, swallowing its catch in one gulp. The noise it let out was like a boars grunt mixed with a Ravagers roar. It took another step towards her, and she took one back. It stopped and cocked its dark head, another string of grunts and snorts coming from its odd, pebble black nose.

Blue light filled her vision suddenly and she screamed. The furry thing shrieked, scrambling backwards so much it tipped back into the pool. Her Focus zeroed in on it as it came gurgling to the surface. “Subject: Organic,” a female voice announced.

“GAIA?” Aloy gasped. She hadn’t heard her voice outside of a data entry before.

“Mammal,” GAIA continued. “Species: Kodiak bear. The largest of the bear family. This one seems to be in the later stages of infancy, maybe a year. Gender, male. The first bear in one thousand years.”

“GAIA, are you there?” Aloy asked, reaching into the air. “How are you here? I thought you were destroyed.”

“Not destroyed – dormant. My systems were built to endure the heaviest of threats. In the aftermath of... systems depleted. Powering down until charged.”

“No!” Aloy cried. “No, I must know! Tell me about Elisabet! What was she like? You talked to her! Tell me, please!”

Her focus shut off, leaving her alone in her garden. She dropped to her knees where she stood, staring into the air, waiting for GAIA to come back. But she didn’t, and Aloy was by herself. Her mind raced, trying to process everything, trying to make it make sense. She wanted it in front of her. She was good when it was in front of her, when she could see it, touch it, move it like she moved the projections on her Focus, but no amount of turning it on and off made GAIA return, and the hope of something she never knew she desired was gone.

Her arm bounced, a black snout coming up underneath it, wriggling until a wet, soggy head was pressed into the crook of her armpit. The bear snuffed at her red hair, black eyes blinking curiously. Aloy stared at it, unseeing until it burped dead fish in her face. She recoiled, gagging, pushing the putrid snout away. The bear chucked, pushing back until Aloy gave up, sitting back. The bear nudged her, pressing its face into her hand, wanting to keep playing, groaning when she wouldn’t respond.

She stood suddenly, slinging her bow across her back. She stuck her fingers between her lips and whistled, a sharp shrill note. Within a minute a Broadhead was charging for the clearing. The bear shrieked as it stampeded towards them. It scrambled clumsily, waddling to its escape, but Aloy snagged it by the back of its neck before it could run. It was heavy and wriggled in her grip, but with both hands she could lift it. She held it out from her.

“You’re coming with me.”

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	2. Avad

Avad knew this meeting would be long, but this was the third time he’d suppressed a yawn, the sixth time he’d stopped himself from rubbing his hand across his face and the tenth time he’d had to bite back on something he imagined Aloy would say to one of his council members. Thinking of her was the only thing keeping him going. What little patience Erend had looked to be fading as well. He twirled a knife, blade down, against the table, uncaring of the scores he left in the deeply coloured, carved wooden table. Avad knew he should be scolding him, reminding him of the decades the table had stood, the generations of Sun-Kings who had graced it with their work... but he was too bored to care right now, and wished he had his own knife so he could escape this hellish meeting.

“...and so the eastern cities just cannot abide by your sudden announcement. Not without a few years to prepare at least.”

“ _Your Radiance_ ,” Blameless Marad reminded sternly. “You are in the presence of the Sun-King, Dolan, don’t you forget that.”

“Pardon?” Avad’s senses came back to the room all at once, like when the head snaps back up after drooping from drowsiness.

Dolan of the south east city of Risen Rays scowled at Marad. His tan skin was beset with wrinkles, particularly around the eyes, but Avad doubted they were born from smiles. When he pursed his lips the carefully groomed triangle of hair on his chin screwed in upon itself, disappearing under the beginnings of a pout. “Apologies, your Radiance,” he said, twisting the word in his mouth like a sour plum. “I was simply reminding you that our traditions are clear. How are we supposed to celebrate the coming of Spring and the return of the Sun without our traditions?”

“Perhaps with a ceremony that celebrates life rather than death,” Avad answered calmly. He sat up straighter. Beside him, Erend stopped his fiddling, gripping the knife sideways in his hand. “Gentlemen-” His eyes flittered to Vanasha lingering in the shadows at the back of the room. “and Ladies, the Sun has seen enough blood in his lasting lifetime. The Leaves tell us of some of the horrors our glorious Sun has shined down upon, and so much more is to come, especially if the fighting pits remain open.”

“Blood begets blood, begets blood,” Vanasha murmured from the back of the room, her dark skin mingling with the shade, her purple thin strapped vest cropped at her midriff and the dark blue leggings draped in purple silks cast into the shadows. She liked to be close to doors, Avad had learned, and wear clothes she could move freely in. “The more blood we spill, the more we seem to want. A thirst that cannot be quenched, and when we drink too greedily what spills from our lips stains the land the sun shines upon with violence and greed. Do we really want to teach our children these lessons when there are better ways?”

Dolan’s lip curled upwards. He shared looks and a few whispers with his fellow envoys from the south east, making Avad glad he’d decided these meetings were to be conducted per city. It meant around ten meetings a day that lasted hours, but he couldn’t let the supporters amass together, nor the ones against the Fighting Pits. The first beginnings of war happened when sides formed. If he kept the meetings separate he may be able to hold on to some semblance of control.   

Dolan finished having an advisor whisper in his ear, nodding with the sun gnarled man. Dolan returned his heavy gaze to Avad. His advisor glared at Vanasha. “I do not think the handmaidens should be voicing their little musings of these matters. The day is growing warm. Some drinks would be much appreciated if we are going to continue _uninterrupted_.”

One of Vanasha’s delicately sculpted eyebrows raised. “I agree. Fetch me some Sweet Summer wine, iced if you don’t mind going down a flight of stairs. We’ll fill you in when you return, though the conversation will be a little more... refined.”

Dolan’s face purpled. “No woman dressed like a whore will give me orders to bring her wine!”

“If you can’t handle the stairs I will have it without ice,” Vanasha simpered to him, smirking wickedly. Erend snickered at the table.

Avad silenced Erend with a gesture and Vanasha backed down from his stern look pointed her way. “There is no need to fight here. This is a meeting seeking peace. But on the road to peace we must compromise. I will draft terms and we will discuss them, and eventually we will resolve this matter on if the pits can be closed without wounding our traditions.”

“There is no _if_ concerning our sacred pits-”

Erend slammed his knife into the table, the blade embedded three inches deep. “Hold your tongue while his Radiance speaks!”

“The day I let an Oseram brute order me silent is the day the sun falls from the sky!” Dolan roared, leaping to his feet.

“Carja, remember who we are!” Avad snapped, standing. The sun had reached its peak. The council room shuddered with tension, the heat tipping into boiling over at the next provocation. Avad watched each face carefully as he pulled himself to his full height. He reached out and pulled Erend’s knife from the table. Dolan’s personal guard tensed as he held the blade in his hand. Avad’s guard at the door gripped the hilts of their swords or grasped their spears tightly. “We are not savages. None of us at this table are savages. We are Carja, we are Oseram, and soon we will have Nora, Banuk, Tenakth and Utaru among us.” He levelled Dolan with a heavy look when the envoy tried to speak. “We came from that east, it is our heritage and now their home. We stole them from their homes, just like they drove us from ours. No one is innocent, no one person can be blamed, and if we cast that blame then we cannot call ourselves evolved. It is time the Sun finally shone upon us. All of us.”

He dropped the knife onto the table.

Dolan growled, settling back into his seat, his face a storm slowly raining itself out as he realised his argument was lost. His envoys shared looks, with each other, or dark glances at the Oseram in the room or at Vanasha. “We cast our vote for the Sun pits to remain,” Dolan said with icy finality. “When these gatherings are finished I hope you remember respect for traditions, Your Radiance. Your father did many horrible things, we do not deny that, but he at least respected our land.”

Avad’s jaw tensed so hard he could swear he felt his molars chip, but he remained silent. He nodded, and his guard opened the doors for Dolan and his men to leave. Marad lingered, watching his Sun-King, before following them out to collect the next group of envoys. When they were all safely gone, Avad collapsed back into his chair.

Erend snorted. “I called the southern Carja being the biggest assholes.” He twisted in his seat to look at Vanasha. “Pay up.”

“They were south _east_ ,” Vanasha reminded, smirking triumphantly. “I’m still in the game. Talanah’s probably at the lodge if you want to collect from her, though.”

Erend laughed, reaching for his goblet and taking a deep drink. Over the years he’d managed to grasp a better hold of his, uh... habits. It showed in the defined lines of his face, the alcohol no longer swelling his cheeks or adding to his beer belly. In fact, when he went for long periods without drinking he was often regularly approached by the Carja woman of the city. When he did drink he was approached more by his own. But Avad knew times were stressful. The Oseram were growing irritable, the Banuk still isolated themselves and the Nora were resistant to allow envoys out of their Sacred Lands.

All but one.

Avad sighed again. Hair as rich as the Sun and a tongue just as sharp crossed his mind in a brief glimpse. It was all he could indulge himself while Aloy was gone, least he be distracted from his duties. He understood Erend’s need for an occasional drink.

Vanasha cleared her throat from the back of the room.

“Come sit with us, no need to skulk anymore,” Avad sighed, rubbing his temples. Since the return of his little brother, Itamen, Avad had gone through great lengths to keep Vanasha close. She minded being in his inner circle about as much as Erend minded a glass of wine.

Vanasha glided across the room and sank into the chair beside him, silky as water, and leaned back in her chair, watching him. She liked to do that, engage him with her eyes but never start the conversation. She knew he didn’t like it. It became a game between them, who would break first. He wondered who else she played with.

As usual, he broke first. “Why must you always antagonise them?”

Vanasha shrugged. “I was thirsty.”

“Aye,” Erend toasted, and drank again.

“Maybe you should slow down,” Vanasha suggested, though it didn’t sound much like one. Erend grumbled, but sipped his next few draughts. Avad was still watching her when she turned back to him, knowing she had his attention, knowing she could keep it or dismiss it with a single glance. He loved and hated her talents, and loved and hated Aloy for suggesting her for his council. “You need to know the level of their prejudice, Your Radiance.”

“Avad will do,” Avad mumbled.

Vanasha smiled briefly, but it vanished when she remembered what she was saying. “These men are all going to resist you because you are change. They respect you for how you took your throne, despite the company you choose to keep.” Erend grumbled into his glass. Vanasha reached out and snatched it from his hand in less than a blink. He squawked in protest as she held it away from him. “They dislike you and I on this council most of all, Oseram. You’re an Outsider and I am a woman, even if I am a Carja woman. We are both as bad as each other in their eyes.” She turned back to Avad, dark eyes full and serious. “You need to know how much your supposed supporters will resist your ideals. So far Dolan has been the biggest pig brought to the spit. The South Eastern Cities despise your Gender Equality, the West still capture slaves and the North refuse to accept any tribe outside of the Carja – unfortunately that doesn’t include the Shadow Carja.”

“Your point, Vanasha?” Avad groaned.

“Is, if you hadn’t interrupted, that despite all their different reasons to hate Erend and I, they all share one dislike of you.”

“The Sun Pits,” Avad filled in and Vanasha nodded. Erend swallowed, looking at his wine in Vanasha’s hand. “Well, do you have any advice for me? That is why you’re here after all.”

Vanasha arched an eyebrow at the petulant outburst, and Avad flushed at his childishness. “My advice is for you to not take on more than you can handle, Avad. You want to give the slaves freedom. You want the Carja to accept outsider tribes. You want to disband the Shadow Carja. You want to close the Sun Pits. You have goodness in your heart yet give them too many reasons to band against you. Choose one goal, finish it. Choose another, finish it. Get them on your side. Tribe by Tribe.”

Avad closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Vanasha had many things he didn’t, talents he would never have. She had a tactful mind. A cunning mind. A mind that could slip a prince out of a palace under the nose of his guards. But she didn’t have a rulers mind. “I cannot wait,” Avad sighed. “If I wait, they gain ground on me. I become the Sun-King who bowed to one tradition or another and soon they will all be on my heels, snapping, biting, thinking they can keep taking. I won’t be my father and bang my fist at anyone who won’t obey or have them slaughtered. This is a new Kingdom, for everyone in it. My subjects and for myself. A new Sun rises on a new Sundom.”

And he believed it. Change was needed, so it would come. By his hand or some others. That was the world. He’d never thought much of the Nora before. Calling them savages had never been his intent, yet he couldn’t deny their... simpler ways. But Aloy had changed that for him. She’d truly opened his mind to everything his father had done to the east, and now he was going to rectify it, tribe by tribe, envoy by envoy, mind by mind.

Vanasha sighed, shaking her head. “You are my Sun-King. I advise you, as does Erend and Marad. Whether you chose to heed it is your own choice.”

“I heed,” Avad admitted. “most of the time you don’t give me a choice.” Vanasha smiled at that. “and you, Erend. I heed your advice when you choose to give it.”

“My fists are better at talking than I am,” Erend said, grinning and shrugging at his own folly, so truthful he would even point them out in himself.

“Enough wine and you talk more than he could ever possibly listen to,” Vanasha said, but smiled fondly at Erend.

“You haven’t seen me full of Oseram brew yet,” he teased back, never once insulted.

It had taken five years, but Avad’s love for the two at his table had grown stronger than he ever imagined. He needed them like he needed Marad. He longed for their playful jests and how they could laugh at each other without insult or injury of pride, yet still call on their flaws. Erend’s drinking wouldn’t be as under control without Vanasha or Avad himself. He needed their serious council, Vanasha’s brutal honesty and Erend’s simple truths, and  he couldn’t imagine ruling without them now.

Marad appeared in the doorway. “The envoys from the South City Sun Spear are here for their meeting.”

Avad allowed himself a heavy sigh, then waved them in. They entered behind a man layered in robes, light yellow flowing out from under blood red and sunburst orange, a headdress of painted Glint Hawk feathers adorning his brow. Erend took one look at him then leaned across the table and took his goblet back from Vanasha, drinking deeply.

“Aris of Sun Spear, welcome,” Avad greeted, standing for his guests. The envoy nodded once and took his seat. The south were not known for their charms, nor their patience. Avad sat and immediately began. “I have summoned you here for a matter of great importance-”

The door to the bottom of the meet tower burst open, the bang of wood striking stone echoing all the way up the tower and into their room. The guards, leaning on the walls, jumped to attention, running out into the corridor.

“I am sorry for this intrusion,” Avad apologised. He glanced at Erend. The Oseram needed no more instruction, grabbing his hammer resting against the back of his chair and stomped out into the hallway. Avad felt heat creeping up the back of his neck. “My deepest apologies-”

“I am seeing Avad, now!”

His apologies stopped at the voice. A second later a red faced Erend rushed back into the room. His hammer was gone and he was stuttering. “I-I think his Radiance needs to reschedule this meeting.”

Aris’s brow furrowed. “We were promised an audience with his Radiance-”

“Stop her!”

Erend leaped aside as a whirlwind of red hair and jangling hunters charms swept through the doorway, a force even Avad’s guards had learned not to get in the way of. She stopped by Erend. He was failing to suppress his grin as she held out his hammer to him.

“You dropped this,” she said, thrusting it into his hands. Vanasha was wide eyed, smiling in amazement as Aloy stomped into the centre of the room. She leaned over the table. “I need to talk to you.”

Avad could do nothing more than nod.

“Your Radiance,” Aris hissed. “I have travelled far from-”

“I rode across the world!” Aloy snapped at the gilded envoy. She turned back to Avad. “Send them out. We need to talk, now.”

“A Nora savage will not interrupt a diplomatic meeting,” Aris said, managing to stay calm. Vanasha must of been right, the south only hated woman out of their place.

Aloy’s eyes narrowed at the Carja man she didn’t know, and Avad knew how badly this could go. Aloy was wise from her travels and had a military mind, but she still hated strangers when they talked to her like that. He waited for her bow to be drawn or the spear to be unsheathed. His guards twitched.

Aloy whistled.

Nothing happened until it was right in his face, the furry brown creature pattering silently into the room on four flat paws and leaping onto his table. Its pink tongue lolled between large white teeth. It sniffed Avad’s face once, then turned its snuffling to the table. It wandered across, squatted directly in front of Aris and pissed. The guards were frozen, everyone in the room was frozen. Only Aloy wasn’t staring at the brown creature pissing on Avad's polished, ancient wooden table.

Aloy glared at Aris. “That diplomatic enough for you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	3. Sylens

Fire had always fascinated Sylens. It wasn’t due to the way it flickered, its dancing shadows, all the different colours it could be, the warmth it emitted or the wrath it could bring. Fire was eternal. It had belonged to the earth before the Old Ones and was the only thing that had withstood their annihilation of the world. After all the trees had disintegrated and the leaves died, the animals butchered, the people drowned in their avarice, the waters poisoned, the earth destroyed, the air unbreathable, fire still burned, and would burn on forever.

In his chambers he only worked by the light of his candles. Over twenty littered alcoves and sconces within his walls, and at least five occupied his desk. He’d of had a fire roaring, if he’d had a hearth. One was being constructed, carved into the stone wall opposite his boar skin cot so he could watch the flames as he went to sleep. It would mean welcoming a new draft from the chimney into his cave. It also meant accepting that he was going to be in these wretched caves longer than he wished.

He grunted as he leaned further over his desk. He was studying the Glyphs of the Old Ones, at least all he’d managed to collect. He did so every day after he finished his work, retiering from long days spent scavenging, reading, typing on a scavenged Old Ones’ machine called a computer, working on what they had called coding, rebuilding what had been broken.

He studied to remember their ways and speak how they spoke. He learned very quickly that they used to speak in very different ways. Not just languages. Some spoke in soft tones with licks of clever pronunciations and perfect inflections. Others seemed to forget what consonants were completely and spoke as if everything were a question. The Oseram way of speaking was harsh, The Banuk dreamy, the Carja melodic, the Nora... to the point. Sylens liked to think he spoke like the Old Ones in fine clothing, sharp black straight pants and matching jackets over crisp white shirts. He liked those ones the best.

And he’d learned there was more than the common tongue in their time. He’d learned what he and all the tribes spoke would of been known as English. He wondered how far he would have to travel before he found another form of spoken words and written letters. He’d tried to learn all of the forms of the Glyphs that he could. So far he felt he could confidently speak a language called French, another called Spanish. One called Italian tripped him up a little, and he’d given up on Mandarin once he’d learned there were multiple versions of a language he thought all sounded the same.

But their English Glyphs were his favourite, from their twenty six basic symbols right up to the longest word they could create (Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, so far he’d found. He couldn’t tell you what it meant, he could barely pronounce it).

He dropped the charcoal he was scribbling with when the page he was writing on ran out of room. His wrist ached tremendously, but it was an ache he relished. He imagined Aloy felt the same when her fingertips swelled red and raw from shot after shot from her bow. His fingers rolled the small black pencil back and forth as he thought more about her, about GAIA and HADES and how so much was left unfinished. Unfinished because of her, and how much he still had to do.

His thoughts now consumed, he pushed the charcoal pencil away and activated his focus. He turned it off when he practiced his writing, then would turn it back on to compare his work, though this time he wouldn’t be checking his penmanship like a Carja babe learning their first letters. He used his mind and a few twitches of his fingers to enter his back network, and before him hundreds of eyes exploded before his own. He ignored them all. He knew the workers, the builders, the searchers and scavengers, and who he was looking for was none of them.

He stopped when he found her and opened up the hologram, leaning back in his seat. Aloy’s furious face appeared, pacing angrily through and around his stone table. A face he hadn't called upon in months, and hadn't spoken to in years. She must be in a big room.

“He called me a dim-witted woman!” she practically screamed.

Sylens winced for the poor moron who could of thought he could get away with insulting the woman who saved the world.

“You are a woman,” a thick set Oseram pointed out quietly, trying to be helpful, his face halfway inside his goblet.

“Shut up, Erend,” Aloy snapped, and he did. Sylens knew his focus couldn’t pick up the room, but he could see the Sun-King standing directly before Aloy, hands out, trying to placate her. Clearly he didn’t know her very well. A woman of dark skin reclined in a chair, an amused smirk on her face as she let Aloy’s storm blow. She did know the Nora.

Relaxing back in his cold stone chair, it was like Sylens was an invited guest to this meeting, a ghost watching them from hundreds of miles away.

“Aloy,” Avad tried, smiling sympathetically. “Aris is Blood of the Sun, do you know what that means?”

“If I stab him he’ll bleed lava?” Aloy asked flatly. The Oseram snorted wine up his nose, hacking and laughing noisily as he tried to clear it. Sylens laughed as well. He’d missed her tongue that could cut like an Oseram blade... when it wasn’t directed at him. She could really slow them down when she got dry.

Avad gave her a tired look. “It means his family lineage stretches right back to the first Carja, the first men, born to the East.

“My east? The _savage_ east?” Aloy asked pointedly.

“His ways are old,” the Sun-King pressed on, fighting through her mud thick sarcasm. “You know I am trying to push my reforms through, but prejudice isn’t something I can just wave my hand and make disappear. I have to change how they think, what they believe in.”

“There has to be a better way to phrase that,” Aloy muttered, Vanasha nodding with her.

“I have to teach them why they’re wrong,” Avad amended, and Sylens had to agree. “I cannot force them. They need to realise why how they think is outdated and decide to change.”

“And if they don’t?” Aloy asked.

Avad’s face hardened. “Their ways will die with time, Aloy. The clans uniting has already proved better than standing alone. You proved that. The Battle of the Spire proved that.”

Aloy winced, though Avad seemed to miss it. It caught Sylens attention. He hadn’t seen her since he’d left her to walk her road alone, to take Helis’ destiny to him in Meridian. What had happened in those years that brought her such pain?

She shook it off before the others could notice it, her guarded features hardening her face. “I didn’t come here to talk about your reforms, Avad,” she said, voice steel. Sylens reached across his table and plucked the charcoal pencil between his fingers, making a note to go back over his records of the Battle of the Spire. A grunt made his charcoal skitter on the paper. He dropped the pencil altogether at the sight of the creature standing by Aloy’s leg, a long tongue lolling as it looked up at the Sun-King. He couldn’t tell it’s true colour, what it was. If that imbecile Ted Faro hadn’t deleted APPOLO he would have a name for it. now he could only stare as it waddled on four legs around the hologram, its steps lurching and uneven like a toddler learning to walk.

“It’s kinda cute,” the Oseram mumbled, his face splitting into a grin as the creature wobbled over to the sound of his voice. He touched it, and the ripples of fur parted and swayed between his thick fingers.

Sylens snatched up his pencil, stabbing so frantically at the page he filled it with more holes than notes. He found a new one and started over.

Mammal.

Fur – dark colour.

Teeth – sharp and thick. A hunter. Meat eater.

Wide feet – built for diverse surfaces.

Sharp claws. A digger.

Omnivore?

Young. Full size – unknown. Estimation. Ten Feet.

He scribbled furiously, every little detail he could see in the creature making it onto his page, and when he ran out of things to document he began to sketch. The paws, the claws. The shape of its nose. How long each tooth was and its supposed individual purpose. What did a monster like that eat? Was it going to grow any bigger? Could it be ridden like a Strider? Would Aloy be able to override it? Could Sylens control it?

He was so lost in his documentation that he had missed half of what Aloy and the others were saying. He’d be able to go back over it later, but he slowed his hand, tuning back in to the conversation.

“GAIA called it a Bear,” Aloy was saying and Sylens hand stilled completely. How had she spoken to GAIA when GAIA was still destroyed? He’d been in the dark for years and Aloy had been speaking with the program all this time? How dare she not inform him, after all his work! He would find the interaction later, gather more information. For now, he continued to listen.

“Who’s GAIA?” the Oseram asked as he scratched under the bears chin. Such a brute didn’t deserve to behold such a wonder before Sylens, to scratch its chin like it were some common fox pup!

Aloy watched him interact with the cub. “Erend if you still don’t remember after the hundredth time I’ve told you why do you ask every time?”

He shrugged. “You catch me on my nights off,” he said, nodding towards the goblet.

Aloy rolled her eyes. “GAIA is why we’re all here. Why there’s still an earth to live on and air to breathe. She was Elisabet’s greatest creation.”

“Besides you,” the Oseram grinned wickedly at her. “Didn’t GAIA create HADES?” The Oseram was truly stupid, in Sylens’ opinion.

Aloy rolled her eyes. “She didn’t create HADES, he was one of her sub functions – should I just write this down?”

The pretty dark skinned woman scoffed. “That would probably make it worse. We know who you mean, Aloy. But I thought she was gone?”

Aloy was practically bouncing now. Sylens had never seen her so worked up. “But she’s not! She spoke to me!” She began to pace. The bear at the Oseram’s feet pricked his small round ears up at the motion and began to toddle towards her, changing direction clumsily whenever Aloy pivoted around at the end of each crossing. “GAIA told me in a recording that I would have to rebuild her, but I haven’t started yet.”

Sylens grimaced down at her holographic form.

“So how did she speak to you? Another recording?” the dark skinned woman questioned.

“No,” Aloy said too quickly. She’d been thinking too much on this already. “It couldn’t be. She actually spoke to me. She answered my questions.”

“Can you talk to her now?” the Sun-King asked, watching the Nora with dark eyes.

“Something went wrong. She had to power down. Her systems were depleted.” Aloy sighed, thick with frustration. “I don’t know what that means.”

Sylens did, and he made another note.

“She... she took a nap?” The Oseram was starting to get on Sylens’ nerves, and he wished he would just stop opening his fat, stupid mouth. He took a breath, trying to calm himself, but this wasn’t something that one could simply watch without excitement.

Avad placed his hands on the table and stood. Every eye turned to him. Aloy stopped her pacing and faced him, back straight, shoulder’s wide, like she was challenging him to come up with an answer that would satiate her. the bear ran headlong into her leg. “This is an unusual find, Aloy. And you hearing GAIA’s voice again is an issue we must revisit. But I still have many envoys to see.”

Aloy’s eyes widened. “You’re just going to put a pin in this for later? Avad this is more important!”

“To you,” the Sun-King replied firmly. “Presently my duties are to be speaking with the men who have travelled far to meet with me. At my request. I already slighted Aris by postponing his meeting.”

“For a Nora who is also a woman,” the dark skinned woman pointed out. She looked apologetically at Aloy as she stood. “Avad will finish his meetings. Discontent will stab deeper than any lance, so stop glaring at him, Aloy. Let us speak where we have room.”

“Send for Uthid as well,” Avad instructed, trying desperately to ignore Aloy’s furious eyes. “I expect my meetings will go faster if I have a seasoned Carja warrior by my side.”

“Subtle,” the dark skinned woman said with an eye roll. “Erend, will you be joining us?”

Sylens grunted irritably as the Oseram opened his stupidly bearded mouth. “These meetings are about Avad’s reforms, so I don’t think they should be conducted by just Carja.” He smiled at Aloy. “I will find you later.”

It was a surprisingly insightful sentiment, Sylens had expected nonsense, or for him to go blubbering after them. Aloy still glared furiously at Avad. The bear cub was nudging her leg with his large head now, squeaking at her to move again. She leaned down and scooped him up, needing both arms to hold him. Sylens made a note of that.

“Find us after, Your Radiance,” she spat, then turned and stormed from the room, the woman on her heels.

Sylens disconnected the feed. There wasn’t much he was going to get from a fuming Aloy, he’d learned that long ago. He’d go back over the data logs in a few hours time. Right now he needed to make his preparations.

“Guard!” he snapped. The door to his cave swung open. A man in dark Carja armour, the metallic disks more sinister than the ones the Sun-King’s men wore in Meridian, strode in. He stood with straight backed discipline.

“Sir?”

“Ready my first unit into an escort,” Sylens ordered. “Tell them to pack for a week’s travel, that is how long I estimate it will take us to reach Meridian.”

“Should the men change their armour?” the guard asked.

“No,” Sylens said with little thought. “Let the Meridian see us as we are. They will need to before we can begin to educate them.”

The guard bowed his head, spun on his heel and left the room. The door swung shut behind him, a gust of wind guttering the candles in Sylens room in one swoosh of air. He would have fallen into complete darkness, had it not been for the only lantern in his room.

Sylens faced it. Its furious red glow bathed his room, roiling coils of energy twisting and turning. Sylens never let that lantern out of his sight. It followed his as much as his firelight did, always burning, always on his mind.

“Prepare yourself, old friend,” Sylens said, leaning back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he studied his notes and sketches. “We’re going on a trip, and I doubt she’ll be happy to see you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	4. Uthid

Itamen chased a dragonfly across the low gardens, giggling hysterically as he ran alongside the many pools it bounded along. He was barefoot, the sun backed clay tiles smooth as pebbles. His mother watched him as she lounged on cushions and soft grass in the shade of an almond tree. A hand maiden twisted white petals into her dark hair and the two chatted amiably while they sipped the milk of the seeds that shaded them. There was a peace to them that Uthid didn’t think he’d ever see again, and if having a kill order placed on his head brought them here, he’d make the gruelling trek up the Greenclimb all over again.

He leaned on a balcony across the gardens and two floors above, the location of his quarters gifted to him by Avad, watching the mother and son, and the shadows of the mesas spires stretch across the garden. They had their own guard detail, two of them standing to attention at the arched entrance to the gardens, two others walking the clay paths. The rest would be at the half family’s quarters, keeping them safe at all times, as Avad ordered. His dedication to his little brother’s safety paralleled the amount of time he actually spent with him, but Uthid understood better than anyone the sacrifices a leader had to make.

Nasadi shifted under the almond tree, pulling another cushion under her so she was propped against the almond tree’s trunk. It prompted him to glance backwards into his chambers. He’d tried to keep them simple when Avad offered him decorators, and Carja artisans offered him handmade silks, more pillows than he could ever need, and carved hardwood tables, chairs and beds. It was only him, he didn’t understand why a carpenter offered him two beds. Being in a palace was strange for Uthid. He was used to arduous treks across Carja lands, laying himself down on hard rock’s but never truly sleeping when the threat of battle always loomed, and the rich food Avad seemed to enjoy upset his stomach.

His fingers drummed on the balcony. He shouldn’t complain. Being one of Avad’s closest advisors was a better future than he’d ever imagined himself having. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t as exciting as his life as a soldier.

“Lord Uthid!”

He hated having a title now. He’d answered to Lords all his life, he had no business being one. He owned no property and had fathered no heirs, and he didn’t plan on acquiring either.

“At ease, Guardsman,” Uthid sighed as he turned from the gardens. The boy was so green his Carja steels barely fit him, and when he stopped he almost dropped his spear during the cursory salute and stomp. “Am I needed?”

“His Radiance has requested you imm _edi_ ately.” His voice cracked halfway through the word.

“Thank you. Dismissed.” Uthid left the boy where he stood. He walked, straight backed, arms by his sides. His eyes fixing on every soldier he passed. Most were either greener than that poor messenger, or as old as Uthid himself. It was a worrying thought, more so that even after six years, they were still healing after the Eclipse’s attack on Meridian. So many lives were gone, good men Uthid had served with for years, or boys he’d only trained for a few weeks looking for glory.

The young never truly understood war.

He left Sunrise Keep where mostly guests and favoured members of the court were lodged, moving down the east corridor. When the sun rose slats of the floor would blaze as the rays washed through the windows. Now the stone floor was cold under his sandals, awaiting its next sunrise, while the towers and Keeps to the west would be basking in the deep glow of twilight. He didn’t need to hold a watch that night, so soon he would be able to rest his aching bones.

“Calm down, Little Huntress.” Vanasha’s voice floated down from Radiance Keep – Avad’s council chambers crowning the tower – and Uthid’s steps stuttered momentarily. Everyone knew who Vanasha’s Little Huntress was and Uthid’s pace quickened.

“I will not calm down, Vanasha!” Aloy snapped, and suddenly she was there, smacking into Uthid when he turned the corner to the stairs for Radiance Keep. “Oof!” she gasped, stumbling back from Uthid’s thick frame. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to – Uthid!” She smiled at him. Behind her, Vanasha’s eyes drifted over him before her lips pulled upwards.

He shifted under the woman’s gaze, looking back down at the Nora with a fond expression. “Aloy, it is good to see you.”

He held out his hand. Aloy grasped it warmly. “I’m glad to see you settled here after the battle.”

Vanasha’s eyebrow quirked upwards, her smile slipping into a smirk. Uthid ignored her. “It’s been an adjustment for me.” Vanasha’s shoulders shook with smothered laughter. She’d found him plenty of times throughout the years patrolling the halls when it wasn’t his watch, too restless for sleep in a bed too soft. “But palace life is much easier.”

“I’ll bet,” Aloy said, rolling her eyes and he knew she was thinking the same as he had for the past six years.

Wanting away from Vanasha’s amused gaze, Uthid stepped closer to Aloy. “May I ask what had you so riled up that you didn’t notice a Shadow Carja right in front of you?”

“Ex-Shadow Carja,” Aloy prompted, but her eyes dropped, looking at the staircase to Radiance Tower. “Avad dismissed me for his council.”

Uthid’s brow furrowed. He remembered that even in the face of his bounty hunters the Nora had been calm. “You’re angered by the Sun-King doing his duty?”

Her cheeks reddened. “It was important and he ignored it for some wrinkled leathery wind bags who aren’t going to listen to him!” Over her shoulder Vanasha sighed and rolled her eyes. “I heard that,” Aloy snapped. She shook her head in frustration, storming back to the stairs. “If you don’t believe me then look for yourself.”

The creature looking at him from Aloy’s arms was like nothing he had ever seen during his years as a Shadow Carja. It looked up at him with huge brown eyes, a pink tongue lolling like it was too big for its already large mouth. Uthid wasn’t sure how it could fit all those white teeth and its tongue in that furry brown snout.

“What is this?” He reached tentatively towards the animal and it sniffed his fingers.

“My focus called it a bear,” Aloy said, some of her frustration ebbing into excitement. She shifted the creature in her arms, its front legs hanging over her arms, its back legs dangling down to her knees.

“It’s certainly interesting,” Uthid murmured, daring to touch it. The dark fur was soft against his skin.

“Exactly! And GA-my focus, spoke to me!” Aloy exclaimed so loudly the bear squeaked in her arms. “And Avad blew it off! The last time my focus spoke to me Hades almost destroyed us all.”

Another look at Vanasha told Uthid that this wasn’t the first time Aloy had gone ranting. Uthid remembered that day better than most. He’d fought side by side with Aloy and other Carja. A young soldier had given his life for Uthid when a corrupted Ravager almost tore his leg off, and the limb still grew stiff and achy when it got cold. Uthid wished he’d gotten that young man’s name so he could at least do him the honour of properly remembering him, instead of referring to him as Quick Hands, for he’d never seen a man kill so effectively, or be so deadly.

Uthid glanced at Vanasha again, taking in her tired eyes and sagging shoulders. He knew she’d been with Avad during his meetings all day. He knew because he’d purposefully avoided the summons Avad had made for two advisors. He was no politician, just like Vanasha was no General.

He cleared his throat, catching Aloy’s attention from the cub wriggling in her arms. “Aloy... don’t take what I’m about to say the wrong way.”

She groaned. “You too? Uthid I thought you’d be a man of action.”

Action sounded marvellous, but he kept his expression firm. “Aloy, Avad is a Sun-King whose reign has been short and filled with blood. I know because I helped spill it. His father’s, Ersa’s, and so many of his men. And now he’s trying to create a new Sundom from those bloodied ashes.”

“Exactly! And this-”

“Is a new change to the many he is already trying to instil,” Uthid pressed on over her. Nora’s knew how to fight, in the field and in conversation. He never thought this would be a kind of battle he would fight until Aloy came charging up the Greenclimb all those years ago. “He has many tasks on his plate, tasks he laid upon himself because they will make this a better Sundom. For everyone and everything.” He pointed at the cub as it nipped at a tendril of her sunburst hair. “This little thing will benefit from his changes just like the rest of us, but first they must happen.”

Aloy frowned, lips pursed like she wanted to argue, but didn’t say anything. Behind her, Vanasha’s cautious expression melted into a surprised one as the Nora sighed in defeat.

“You’re right,” she said. It wasn’t an apology for storming in, but it was the best Uthid was going to get, so he smiled down at her. She returned it, then turned to Vanasha. “I need to relax. I rode a Broadhead for two days to get here.”

“I know a good lodge,” Vanasha said , grinning wickedly. She waited until Aloy put the cub down then took her by the arm, turning them away from Uthid, taking them down the corridor. The bear cub toddled after them. As they turned the corner Vanasha shot him a look over her shoulder and winked.

As he had for the past six years, Uthid pretended to ignore her goad, turning away before she could see his flushing cheeks, and made his way up the stairs to Radiance Tower. He passed an envoy along the way, the man as wrinkled by the sun as Uthid himself. He nodded at the man and his guards. The Envoy did not nod back, blowing past Uthid, grumbling about traditions and a woman’s place in the world. _Good thing Vanasha left that meeting,_ Uthid thought to himself. Erend was behind them, his hammer across his shoulders. One look at Uthid and he cracked a knowing smile.

“They went to the Hunters Lodge,” Uthid said, knowing what he was going to ask.

Erend’s smile widened into a grin. “Great. Brews on me, well, Talanah. She owes me some coin!” And he hurried off.

Uthid didn’t realise he was frowning, thinking of those Envoys he passed and how many more men like that Vanasha must of suffered that day because he didn’t answer the summons, until he reached the top of the stairs and one of Avad’s guards asked him what was wrong. He cleared his features and dismissed the notion that Vanasha needed rescuing from men, before going inside. Avad leaned over his table, staring at what appeared to be a stain. He didn’t look up as Uthid entered.

“You sent for me, Your Radiance?” he said, standing to attention.

Avad didn’t say anything for a long moment, then straightened. “Do you know what I like best about Radiance tower, Uthid?”

“No, Your Radiance.”

“At ease, Uthid,” Avad sighed. Uthid didn’t relax, but he let his shoulders sag a little to make his king happy. “I like the way the tower is built. It was actually a structural point of interest by the architect of my so many great grandfathers ago.”

“I don’t remember my father all that well,” Uthid commented and Avad chuckled. “You like it because it’s part of the family?”

“I like it because they designed it so that anyone in the tower could hear someone approaching from the bottom of the stair, from their footsteps... to their conversations.” Avad gave him a knowing look. “I tried, Vanasha tried, but we could not calm Aloy down. Are you sure you shouldn’t be in these meetings?”

“Definitely, Your Radiance.” Uthid had no illusions on his lack of political savvy. “I just know a warrior with adrenaline when I see one. A pup has his first battle and thinks he can fight forever after it. But give him time to run it through and he’s as weary as the rest of them. She needed to cool off and get her head back, that was all.”

Avad’s smile was warm. “You are wiser than you let yourself believe, my friend.”

“I wasn’t wise enough to see what the Shadow Carja really are, or what your father really was, your Radiance,” Uthid said solemnly. “If Aloy hadn’t shown me, I might of ended up fighting against you.”

“You are not a fanatic, Uthid. You are a strong and capable leader of men in battle, and a wise advisor to a young king who’s only blood he shed was his father’s.”

Like under Vanasha’s clever and teasing winks, Uthid blushed uncomfortably at Avad’s praise. “It was for the best. If there was one thing I learned at Sunfall, it was that the Shadow Carja are wrong. No lesson I learned harder than after I was saved by a woman, and a Nora from the east.”

“Also a woman,” Avad said, gaining his usual smile whenever he thought of Aloy.

“Also a woman,” Uthid agreed, and a slow, unwarranted smile spread across his own lips. “I learned that your father was wrong. Without Vanasha’s talents we would be years behind in your progress. We have the west with us in your reforms because of Vanasha’s making connections with Jeneva. She is a clever, sneaky, charming woman.”

Avad raised an eyebrow. “You seem to be very appreciative of her talents.”  

Uthid’s cheeks flushed brightly. “I-I only meant that... She-She’s been very useful to us. Tactful – an advantage...”

“Calm down, my friend,” Avad chuckled, placing a hand on Uthid’s shoulder. “I am in agreement with you. She is a trusted advisor, suggested to me by both Aloy, and you.”

“She saved my life. I will forever be in her debt, and if that means I have to suffer her goads every day until the day I die, then I will suffer them happily. I never thought a kill order could bring me to... bring me happiness,” Uthid said, and never meant anything more.

Avad smiled knowingly at him, but it faltered slightly. Uthid did not have a cunning or savvy mind, he only knew that trusting his gut had served him up until now, and he felt it drop as Avad cleared his throat.

“You are also a valued and trusted member of my council, which is why I have chosen you for an imperative assignment.”

Uthid straightened. “Anything, Your Radiance.”

Avad grimaced. “I have sent envoys to every corner of the Sundom and they have sent envoys in return. All but one.

“Sunfall,” Uthid said, stiffening. He hadn’t returned to that part of the Sundom since High Priest Bahavas had placed the kill order on his head. “What do you ask of me, Your Radiance?”

“I know what happened to you at Sunfall, Uthid,” Avad began. “But there is no one I trust will have the most success in this more than you. Bahavas is dead, the Shadow Carja are without a definitive ruler and haven’t been able to place one in five years. As a former Carja in Shadow, who has turned towards the true light, they may listen to you. I want you to be my envoy to the Sundom.”

Uthid hesitated, before clearing his throat. “It’s... a bold plan, your Radiance, but I’m not sure I would be right for the job. They know me as a defector, worse, a man who supposedly threatened their true Sun-King’s life.” Avad didn’t seem to be paying his worries much heed. “I’m also not much of a negotiator. I could suggest a much more practised envoy.”

Avad sighed. “Vanasha isn’t an option, Uthid,” he said and Uthid’s hopes plummeted. “Sending you is a risky choice, I know that. There are as many reasons to send you as to order you stay in my protection. But even though my father has been dead for almost ten years, Sunfall is still under his reign.”

Uthid grumbled under his breath, understanding what Avad was getting at. “She would never be listened to. Even as a Carja, and an accomplished member of your council, she is still a woman.”

“The woman who also disappeared with their future Sun-King and his mother,” Avad reminded him.

Uthid sighed but stood straight and to attention. “I would be honoured to be your envoy, your Radiance. Just tell me what needs to be done.”

Avad smiled in relief, and Uthid realised then that his Sun-King hadn’t really expected his war councillor to argue with him. He would of frowned, but he was more disciplined then that.

“Excellent,” Avad said, clapping his hands together. He rounded the side of the table, heading for a wardrobe stacked against the wall. He opened a shelf and pulled out a slip of paper, taking it to a desk where he began to scribble on it with charcoal. “While you are there, I will have another task for you.” Avad must of noticed Uthid smothering his groan because he smiled. “There are no politics involved with this mission.”

Uthid relaxed, the lines on his forehead softening as his troubled expression fell away. “What does this job involve?”

“I want you to meet with an acquaintance of mine in Sunfall.”

It was less than Uthid was expecting. “What is the nature of the meeting?”

“He has information for me. It’s of the nature of the Sun Pits in Sunfall.”

Those were the biggest fighting pits in the Sundom, and Avad’s toughest challenge in his new reforms. “What is his name? How will I know him?” Uthid asked, unease growing in him at Avad’s evasive answers.

“He will not use a name, he cannot risk being known. He will go by The Shadow who walks. But he will know you, I have explained to him that you are coming and instructed him to find you three days after you arrive.”

Uthid understood Avad’s relief on his acceptance of the mission now, but that didn’t make him any happier. “You had me targeted by a Shadow Carja?”

Avad’s face blanched for a moment. “No, of course not, Uthid,” he stammered. “This is a trusted friend of mine. He has been with me in this for years.” That didn’t make Uthid feel any better. “This is a man I trust with my own life. I sent him to Sunfall, and I would go see him myself, but I cannot be seen to have any involvement, and I cannot enter Sunfall.” Avad checked around, then leaned closer to the older man. “No one knows of this. Not even Vanasha. Should I have trusted you?”

Uthid paused, watching his King’s eyes. They held his with utmost uncertainty, and Uthid realised how delicate whatever Avad was doing actually was. He’d been holding this alone, no confidant to wonder to, if he was doing the right thing, if the choices he made in the mission for his reforms were right. It must have something to do with Avad’s new ideals for the Sundom, it was all he’d worked on for the past six years, and even Uthid could see the brilliance of it. If Avad somehow brought Sunfall back into the Sundom, without bloodshed, the other cities would have no choice but to begin to listen. Uthid found his King’s eyes again and nodded.

“You have me on your side, Your Radiance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And if you love my work, check out the link below to show your Love and Support!
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	5. Aloy

It had big eyes, she noted, brown with golden flecks, and usually hungry. It looked with them, but it preferred to use its wet black, nose, snuffling at everything it could, trying to eat anything and everything. The small, round ears twitched, flicking different ways, moving up or down, side to side. It completely changed its short furry face, giving it the hint of emotion or thought. When it panted its thick lips turned up at the sides like a smile, tongue lolling between its dagger like teeth.

She felt Vanasha staring at her, dark eyes taking in every minute movement she made. Aloy studied the bear, avoiding Vanasha’s gaze.

“Do you think he knows what he is?” Vanasha asked, leaning back into the cushioned booth. She plucked a fig from the laden plate and bit into it. The bear watched the fig disappear longingly.

“I doubt it thinks,” Aloy said from her wooden chair on the other side of the dark oaken table, not looking away from the bear’s eyes. The cub was sitting on the table between them, shoulders slouched forwards, its weight resting on its heavy front legs. Low lamp light cast over the room, the cub and Vanasha washed in warm shadows. It pushed its black wet nose against Aloy’s face. She shivered and jerked away from it. It slumped forwards, legs star-fishing outwards so that its chest touched the wood, unbothered by the tumble, its tongue flicking up to lick its own nose.

“Don’t be so mean,” Vanasha cooed as she leaned over and stroked the bear’s head. “He’s a little cutie.”

 _He_ was the reason for Aloy’s mood. Getting the cub through the Lodge had been one of the most arduous tasks of Aloy’s life, and, yes, that included getting actually accepted into the Hunters Lodge. The second Ligan asked the girl at the front desk if she’d seen anything like the cub before and she squealed over the cuteness of the cub, hell had broken loose faster than a Trampler stampede. Erend beamed, toasting and watching Aloy wrestle the cub through cooing men and woman, eager hunters looking for bigger challenges, until Talanah hustled them upstairs and into a lounging room, happy to get away from Erend’s guffawing as he spent his... her coin on drink echoing in the swings of the door. “Let me know if you guys need anything, especially for _this little cutie_ ,” she gushed, nuzzling the cubs head.  “Apparently everything is on me tonight,” she said, rolling her eyes, but smiling as she left them alone.

“He’s an animal, Vanasha,” Aloy sighed. Why did no one but her get it? “An animal that hasn’t been seen in over one thousand years-”

“-Isn’t that something that should be celebrated?” Vanasha asked, trying to innocently cut her off. Aloy remembered when she asked the woman to stop being evasive once, and her  attempt didn’t slip by her now either.

“But where did it come from?” she insisted. “How was it born? Does it have a mother? Are there more like it? Can we find where it came from?” She looked at the bear cub. “What did Elisabet have planned for you? What could you mean for the future of this planet?”

The cub stared vacantly at her, huffing breathily.

She covered her eyes, slumping onto the table and rubbing at the headache that had been building for three days. Vanasha plucked another fig and ate it in two lengthy bites. She took her time, and Aloy didn’t really understand how two bites of a fig could be so drawn out. When she finished her second she reached for a third.

“Vanasha!” Aloy screeched.

The woman looked at her with a barely concealed smile. “Do you need something?”

She needed a long nap and a straightforward conversation. “I _need_ to find out why this thing found me.”

Vanasha put her third fig down, reaching over to pick up one of the salted fishcakes. She held it out to Aloy, but she shook her head, grimacing. Normal fish cooked over a fire was great. Blended and mashed and covered in weird crumbly bread made her stomach ache. Vanasha smiled and held the fishcake out to the cub. It gobbled it up in one bite, licking its huge muzzle. It inclined its huge head towards her. Instead of handing him another, Vanasha put one cake into Aloy’s palm, guiding her hand to the cub. Its tongue was wet and rough and tickled her palm as it ate, but this time she didn’t flinch away.

“He found you, Little Huntress,” said Vanasha, softly, watching the cub. “We all know this is big, and not just for you. Avad has a kingdom who’s crops and livestock will be affected by this. Talanah’s lodge is going to be completely changed. You have something new to distract yourself with.” That one made Aloy look up. Vanasha’s lip quirked upwards but she kept her eyes on the bear cub as it licked Aloy’s palm clean. “But this little guy found you. For the moment, the _why_ doesn’t matter. Just enjoy the now.”

Every crumb was gone so the cub rested his chin in her hand, ears up, looking at her. Aloy cocked her head to the side and the cub copied her, blinking. “Okay,” she sighed, scratching under its chin with two fingers. “It...He’s not so bad.”

“I never thought I’d see the day,” a voice chuckled. Avad leaned against the door jam. Low candle light from the evening lanterns spilled warmly over his shoulders. He wasn’t wearing his headdress. Aloy had only seen him without it a few times. His hair was buzzed short for the summer months, almost to the skull, long enough to curl slightly at the fringe. She knew he did that when it began to get warm and when her heavy orange locks grew hot and stuck to her neck she could understand the appeal.

“I don’t only hunt animals,” Aloy said, pointedly feeding the cub another fishcake. He didn’t seem to mind being used to prove a point as he gobbled up the cake.

“You’re wearing a boar skin cloak,” Vanasha pointed out.

Aloy unconsciously breathed in the musty and wood smoke scent that clung to the fur as she touched the skinned boars head on her shoulder, the perfectly preserved horns and fur she oiled to keep soft. In a soft voice she murmured, “I wasn’t the one who made this.”

Avad didn’t seem to notice her sudden quiet, coming fully into the room. He held the door open though. “Vanasha, if I could have a moment with Aloy?”

The Vixen sighed dramatically, rising silkily from the booth and gliding across the room, gliding through the open door. “Don’t be long,” she whispered to Avad, winking at him, leaving the room. He shut the door behind her, blushing in the low light. Aloy pretended not to notice, seeing if the bear would like figs as well. She had skills Vanasha had to train for years to obtain, but what Vanasha could do to men could never be learned.

Avad walked the room, grabbing another chair and setting it beside Aloy. He perched on the edge, leaning his arms on the table, towards the bear cub. It sniffed the hair on his arms, licked the charcoal powder on his finger tips and snorted when it turned out burnt wood dust tasted terrible. Aloy fed him another fig to balance it out.

“He’ll get sick if you keep feeding him that stuff,” Avad commented.

“You eat like this all the time,” Aloy pointed out.

“I grew up eating like this,” Avad countered, smiling at her. “I have a sturdier constitution.”

“It doesn’t suffer when you dine with the Oseram?” Aloy asked, part sarcastic, part wondering how he’d handled the giant spits of boar and turkey covered in a sauce so thick and spicy Aloy’s voice had been raw for days.

Avad grimaced. “Ah, that did have a few...uh, undesirable effects on my system.” He shook his head, his hand going to his stomach. “I won’t slander your ears with how long I was stuck in Erend’s privy.”

“Two days?” Aloy asked, remembering the squat wooden backhouse on Erend’s property.

Avad’s eyebrows rose. “Your system is much stronger than mine.”

Aloy snorted, hiding her chuckle. “Oseram is nothing. You should try Nora.”

Avad’s smile was warm but another kind of hunger flashed briefly in his dark eyes. “I would love to.”

Aloy had learned to ignore Avad’s slips. They happened at least once every time she returned, a recess of thought in the back of his mind. She wondered if they happened because he’d been thinking about Ersa, if his infatuation with her was still tied to deceased Oseram war chief, or if they were only from thoughts of her that his usual demeanour slipped. He was respectful, calm and always professional every minute of his life, so she couldn’t blame it when his mind was finally allowed a break.

“Did you need something, Avad?” she asked, straightening up again, putting the walls back up.

If Avad noticed her attempt to dispel the tension he didn’t show it, staying leaning on the table, studying the cub as it began to nibble on its own feet. “I thought it was the other way around, or were you barging in to say hello?”

Aloy’s lips went taut as she remembered her actions earlier that day. “That was wrong of me, Avad. I shouldn’t of burst in like that.”

“You didn’t know I was in a meeting,” Avad said, shrugging, but the Sun-King hadn’t been casual a day into his reign.

“Yelling at your envoys won’t help with tribal relations,” Aloy countered. He was too polite to say she wasn’t. She thought he would know by now that a little scolding wasn’t going to hurt her feelings. Her pride wasn’t as easily wounded as him noblemen’s, and she hated the idea that he thought she and they were alike.

He sighed, which meant she was getting close. “I have a way to fix that,” he said, instead of admitting she was right. “Do you know of the Leaves?” Aloy nodded. “Good, that saves us some time. It took some convincing, Marad is still fretting over the ancient pages, but I have arranged for you to be granted access to the Leaves. They may give you an answer as to where your little friend came from.”

The bear nudged Aloy’s arm with its head, wishing after another fishcake. She ignored it. “You think it could have something in there?”

Avad paused, searching for the honest answer that would also appease her. “There is much in there. On our culture, the majesty of the Sun. You could learn a lot from them.”

“It’s not the sun I need to learn about,” Aloy said. Avad always urged her to read Carja studies of their ways so she could contribute more in council meeting, a guerrilla spiritual conversion tactic to make her a little less Nora, more what a Carja would consider civilised.

“Of course, I was only mentioning something that might be helpful,” Avad amended. “But it speaks of what the sun used to shine upon and its subjects.”

“The Old Ones?” Aloy asked, leaning towards him in her eagerness. Like his slips, she found it best to just carry on over Avad’s subtle preaching. Telling him to stop just made him try to be more creative.

Avad nodded, beaming at her excitement, placing his hand on hers. “Yes. Much of who they were is in the Leaves. It might not tell you as much as your Third Eye, but it might be a place you can start.” Aloy couldn’t help but smile when Avad called her Focus a Third Eye, and right now she was so happy she could kiss him. She checked the thought before it could go somewhere unwanted, somewhere that would be unfair to Avad just because she was flushed with gratitude and excitement. “I have only one request in exchange.”

Her heart stopped for a moment, her skin going cold under his. He’d hinted, slipped suggestive thoughts into her head with completely innocent words, but Aloy never pictured Avad... asking for her like this. When she did picture it she thought she would have more control of the situation, and she thought she would know her answer.

“A-Avad... I-”

“I request you return to my councils,” Avad said, cutting her off. She was glad he did because she had no idea what she was going to say. “Vanasha is outnumbered. She is the only woman trying to break into a world where most of them don’t want her, at least not for her intellectual input.” Aloy grimaced, Avad making an equally disgusted sound. “She is easily lost in a sea of voices shouting louder, but maybe if another woman were with her, perhaps a Nora who I know will not go unheard, they may be forced to, as you so eloquently put it to Ambassador Nunes last year, ‘Sit down, shut up, and listen’.”

Aloy chewed her bottom lip over it, looking at the cub. Contented and full, it was snoozing on its back on the table. It offered nothing, but it gave her the answer. “I will sit your councils, Avad. I’m sure you’ll regret your end of the deal after tomorrow’s meeting.” Avad chuckled, beaming wider, and Aloy allowed herself a smile. “This will give me all my answers.”




Erend banged the door shut, laughing at Aloy as her head shot up from resting on the stone table. A page she’d been taking notes on was stuck to her cheek. Her clothes were three days stale and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d chewed her mint leaves. The bear cub, curled beside a fire burned to low embers, also lifted its head at Erend’s entrance. It groaned low and rested its head on the stone floor again, uninterested in the Oseram striding into the room and throwing himself into the seat beside the girl he followed around.

“Good study session?” Erend asked, chuckling when Aloy groaned. He reached over and pealed the paper off her cheek. “They enjoyed water activities, swimming, sailing, _sur-fing_? While often associated with them this does not include lounging beside large bodies of water?” Erend looked between her and the paper like it was both of them that didn’t make sense.

“The cub likes water,” Aloy sighed, resting her cheek in her palm. Her eyes hurt, and rubbing them blurred her vision. “I thought it could be a connection. Instead it just makes him stink.”

“You’re seriously fishing, hey, that’s another for your list!” he plucked her charcoal pencil from under her fingers and went to scribble on her list. She snatched it before he could ruin her work. “Easy, Anointed!”

“Don’t start,” she grumbled. His laughter eased into more chuckles. The bear cub groaned again, rolling onto its side. Aloy made a frustrated noise, bending over her notes she’d made from the Leaves. “I’ve been here for a week and all I’ve got is hobbies and... and the fact this thing likes to sleep for four months at a time.”

“Sounds like he has the right idea,” Erend said, looking at the cub with a grin. “He still doesn’t have a name?”

“Why would I name it?” Aloy asked, not looking up from her notes.

“Come on,” Erend said. He tapped her page to get her attention. “Everything deserves a name. Do you really think you can keep calling him ‘It’?”

“Fine. Call him Bear,” Aloy bit out, trying to focus. “Or cub, I don’t care.”

“You can’t call him what he is,” Erend protested.

“Why not? It’s not like there are any others to get confused over. He is one bear, Bear can be his name.”

“Oh yeah, no, I see that logic, that’s a good point, Girl. Woman. Nora. Red.” He didn’t flinch at her unimpressed scowl. “Okay, let’s see.” He got up from the chair and went to the fire. The cub stretched when it saw him coming, rolling onto its back. Instead of receiving a tummy scratch, the cub was lifted into Erend’s arms. While Aloy was beginning to struggle picking the growing cub up, the Oseram had no difficulty carrying him over to the table, settling back into his chair with the cub on his lap. “Hefty, dark haired, strong, a handsome smile. How about you call him Erend?”

“He certainly has the big mouth covered,” Aloy said, dashing Erend’s grin. “I haven’t had time to name it. I’m trying to find out where it came from. A name isn’t important.”

“You of all people should know that isn’t true,” Erend said solemnly, ruffling the cubs ears.

Aloy didn’t react. “I’ll get to it. But it won’t be called Erend.”

“Your loss,” Erend said with a smile and a shrug, and the tension leaked from the room.

They sat in silence for a long while, Erend ruffling the cubs ears as it snoozed on his lap while Aloy studied her notes, searching for an answer, a clue, anything. Her Focus lay on the table beside her collection of charcoal pencils and stacks of paper. Scanning the Leaves hadn’t revealed much to her and she didn’t like to let _him_ look too long on her life. She didn’t let him see when she talked to Elisabet or Rost, and this felt like something new, something he wasn’t allowed to yet, maybe never.

“You think he means something is coming?” The cub had fallen asleep in Erend’s lap. His hand resting on its back.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Aloy said, watching them. “This time before it comes.”

Erend made an agreeing noise, but then his face twisted, like he was back peddling. “I say let it come. Nothing happens around here anymore. My hammer’s itching for something to smash.”

“Go make Avad those potatoes he likes, then,” Aloy muttered.

She earned a chuckle from Erend. “Nah, something real, something... just something, you know? Something that stops me from coasting.”

“Coasting?” Aloy asked. She’d never heard Erend complain about anything, except when Talanah cut him off for the night. Even every year on Ersa’s anniversary he only grew quiet, taking himself off to be alone.

Erend shrugged, purposefully ignoring her eyes. “I didn’t do much to earn this job, I fought in one battle, and now I’m a Captain in a city that sleeps in the sun more than a Snapmaw at noon.” He sighed, rubbing his face. “I want to _really_ earn this job.”

Aloy was unsure on what to say. Erend didn’t open up to her, he wasn’t the type to open up that much. He found his solace in the bottom of a mug, not in a Nora as emotionally stunted as himself. “And if you don’t earn it?” she pushed, because pushing was all she knew.

Erend shrugged, sighing heavily. “Head back to the Claim and make myself useful there.” When she didn’t say anything, Erend shot her a hurt look. “What, no ‘don’t go. Avad needs you’? or ‘When will we see each other again’?.” Aloy shrugged. He slumped in his seat with the same pout he got when he was getting _thirsty_. “Way to make a guy feel loved.”

“I’m in the Claim about as much as I’m in Meridian, I’d see you the same amount,” she defended, and he had to grumble in agreement. “As for Avad, you know he would understand if you felt you had to leave. He has Uthid, Marad, and a lot of guards to keep him safe. And just because you might leave doesn’t mean the rest of the vanguard will.”

Erend grumbled some more. “Your pragmatism is really ruining my moping.”

“It’s my best and most annoying trait,” Aloy answered in a deadpan voice.

He snorted, shaking his head at her, stopping when a knock sounded at the door. A server of Avad’s entered, carrying a tray of red grapes, cured boar, salted cooked fish, and two whole raw salmon, for the cub. The rest Aloy had specifically asked to not be too spiced, too sweet, or too Carja. The bear cubs nose twitched, and then it was awake.

Erend moved the hungry cub off his lap, standing up to let the server lay Aloy’s table. The cub toddled around their feet excitedly. “Thanks for giving me a minute.” He gave her one last smile before heading for the door.

“Erend,” Aloy called. He stopped in the doorway, looking back at her. “You get two, don’t forget.”

He chuckled. “Two? She likes me,” he said, winking at her, then walked out.

The bear cub never noticed his absence, dancing around Aloy’s chair as she cut his fish into sections with a large carving knife. She didn’t like it when he ate them whole. He gorged himself so quickly she feared he might choke. She fed him chunks of fish between her own bites of food, letting him eat out of her hand or throwing him pieces to wobble after. For a moment she forgot her studies and her own meal and she watched the cub, watched him amble around, stumbling clumsily on his own feet, how his nose snuffed at the air and the dust made him sneeze, how his eyes blinked sleepily, how his claws made _skit-skitter-skit_ noises on the stone floor, how some simple fish made him happier than anything she’d ever seen, and she smiled.

A heavy banging on the door shattered the moment of tranquillity she’d fallen into. The wood boomed again, before a rough voice cursed and threw it open. Erend ran in, a flustered Carja guard behind him.

“You need to see this, now!”

Aloy didn’t ask. She grabbed her Focus and put it on, then rushed to the cub, struggling him into her arms, holding him on her shoulder like a mother with her babe, and ran after Erend. He stormed down the hallways and Aloy saw that it was almost noon of her seventh day in Meridian. Guards were leaving their posts, armour clinking and crashing as they rushed in the direction Erend was leading her.

“Erend, what is happening?” Aloy asked.

“Something bad,” he grunted back.

Dread wracked her stomach and her fingers twitched to take hold of her bow, but that would mean putting the cub down and for some reason she could not bring herself to let him go. She clutched him tighter to her chest as Erend burst through the Sunhall doors, charging out onto the balcony. Beyond was the grand foyer, two sets of polished white stone stairs leading down on either side of the balcony to the hall below. The fifty foot wooden double doors were thrown open to accommodate the twenty five Shadow Carja men held at spear point by Avad’s guard. Avad himself was at the edge of the balcony, Vanasha at his back. Aloy moved to his right side, Erend pushing his way to his left.

“Vanasha, what’s happening?” Aloy whispered.

“The wind is turning, Little Huntress, be ready for the game,” she said in a troubled voice as she nodded to the grounds below them.

Encircled by a ring of spear wielding Carja guards and Oseram, his hands held up behind his head, was Sylens, the strips of blue on his chin tilted confidently towards the Sun-King. Beside him on the ground was a lantern that burned ugly and red, a light Aloy remembered from her nightmares and saw in the spaces between her blinks.

“What’s in the lantern?” A Carja Captain barked at Sylens.

“Where is Aloy?” Sylens answered calmly.

“Get the Shadow Carja on their knees!” The Captain ordered. His men advanced, spear heads prodding the Shadow Carja, but they didn’t move.

“Kneel,” Sylens ordered them, his voice low and soft, and they did as he said. “Lay your weapons down and do as they say.” He raised his head to Avad again, mouth poised to repeat his question, before his eyes landed on Aloy, then at the cub in her arms with a cold intensity. “Ah, Aloy, I’m glad you could come.”

“Why is HADES alive?” she yelled down at him. "Why is it here? What are you doing here, Sylens?"

The lantern at his side pulsed angrily at her voice. “Entity is present!” it screamed.

“Be silent, my friend,” Sylens said, and immediately the lantern calmed. He looked back at the balcony “We have come far to see you. You have found something we needed to see.”

Aloy’s stomach roiled with hate and rage. He’d seen her cub, spied through her Focus. She shouldn’t be surprised, but she felt stupid for thinking he was done. What else had he ripped from her? Did he spy on Rost? On Elisabet? Did he have no shame? What else had he taken from her?

The cub whimpered in her arms but her thoughts of him were gone. “Friend? What are you doing with him!”

“What you have been neglecting for years!” Sylens took a step towards the balcony. A Carja warrior jabbed his spear at him, poking at his chest plate. Sylens didn’t spare him a look, his eyes fixated on Aloy, or the cub in her arms, she couldn’t tell. “Restoring GAIA.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda missed some of my favourite commentators on the last chapter, kinda killed my muse a little, but I got this done for you guys.
> 
> And if you love my work, check out the link below to show your Love and Support!
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> [](https://ko-fi.com/A17123XG)
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> http://ko-fi.com/ruerue


	6. Avad

“Keep them on their knees!”

Avad’s honour guard bunched tighter around him, Aloy with the cub in her arms and Vanasha as they looked down upon the small army of Shadow Carja at their palace doors, keeping their king in a tight semi circle, watching the chaos unfold below. Erend’s Vanguard spread to the stairs on either side of the balcony, four Oseram to a case, hammers raised, blocking any attempt the Shadow Carja could make to get to the Sun-King, if they could somehow get past the other fifty guardsmen and the spears pointed at their necks.

But they didn’t seem to be trying at all. They complied to their leaders order to kneel, their hands behind their heads, weapons discarded on the floor, so unlike that Shadow Carja that had raided his city six years past. One, the closest to the dark skinned man, made to whisper something to him, but an Oseram spear butt knocked the words from his mouth, along with a thin spittle of blood.

“May I speak with his Radiance?” asked their leader, dark skinned with a voice as smooth as ice, and just as sharp as his friend wiped his mouth. He lifted his hand and a spear jabbed at his chest.

“Do not move!” Erend roared down at him.

The man glanced at Erend with bored disinterest. “Keep your orders to yourself, Oseram, you’ll only slow us down.”

Erend’s face reddened while Aloy gasped a name, the one she’d sais earlier, Sylens. The soldiers screamed, the Shadow Carja screamed back, weapons clashed and stamped on the stone floor and all the sounds crashed over Avad, thunderous and blinding together. He couldn’t see, sweat streaming into his eyes. He couldn’t feel his finger tips or remember how he got his brain to move his arms. Is this how a ruler acted? Kadaman would of known what to do. What would Kadaman do?

“Avad,” Aloy’s voice cut through the storm, a sharp wind in the middle of the fray. “I have to talk to him!” She clutched the cub in her arms, the baby sniffling as it tried to see what was happening. It spotted the lantern and shied away, wining fearfully.

Her shouting and the cubs shrieking boomed with the rest of the cacophony. Avad gripped the balcony, his tan knuckles going white. Her eyes darted to his hand and lifted to his face, sweeping over the sweat beading on his forehead. He had to breathe, but he was forgetting how to do that as well.

“Stay on your knees!” Erend bellowed again, and Shadow Carja bellowed back.

“Avad!” Aloy hissed sternly in his ear, grasping his wrist with her free hand, but he couldn’t snap himself free.

And then, amongst the chaos, a soft voice suggested, “Perhaps you should order your guards to give them some space?” Vanasha kept her eyes on the fray, but she was close enough that he could feel the warmth of her skin.

His mind was still clouded, but he forced the haze away, her warmth like the sun that chased off the fog. He hadn’t felt that lost in a long time, when he thought he was going to watch his city crumble like the bursting bridge that shattered before his eyes, signalling the battle of Meridian. Even then, Aloy had been shouting in his ear, but he couldn’t ready guns and blast this problem away.

He took a breath. “Guards.” He forced his voice firm. “Give them room. Two paces. Lances at the ready.” He trusted Vanasha, but he didn’t trust the dark skinned man.

His guards did as he bid, as they always would, but he felt his stomach twist when some of them shared quick glances, unsure. He’d wavered and they’d sensed it. Now he had to make them shameful of doubting him, instead of his shame of hesitating.

_It’s all a game, little brother. With only one rule. Do you remember it?_

_Yeah, Avad, does that thick head remember?_

_I remember, the both of you remind me well,_ Avad thought, and it steeled him. “What right do you have to bring Shadow Carja into my sacred city?”

The dark skinned man, Sylens, cocked an eyebrow. “ _Your_ sacred city? Forgive me, Your Radiance, but isn’t thinking of this city as one sole beings is what put your tribe into turmoil years ago?”

Despite his resolve, Avad bristled. “I am not my father.”

“I never said you were,” Sylens said smoothly and Avad realised it was exactly the way the man wanted him to react. “I am only saying that you are Carja and so are we.”

“You are no Carja!” Aloy yelled down at him. “Carja worship the sun and you walk with darkness!”

The lantern at Sylens’ side pulsed urgently, red tendrils snaking along the floor.

To his credit, Sylens took being interrupted with grace, bowing his head to her and the cub in her arms. “I will rephrase. You are Carja and so are the men at my back. And they wish to be treated as such.”

“They renounced their tribesman-ship the day they waged war for a dead man,”  Avad said in a cool voice, one he hoped didn’t sound too much like the dark skinned mans.

“A man who is dead, we agree. All we can do now is look to the future.” Sylens bowed his head again, the Shadow Carja at his back doing the same.

It dawned on Avad then, but he wanted to hear the man say it, hear the way he said it so all his councillors bar Uthid could hear. “What are you saying?”

“The Shadow Carja wish to be absolved, and reformed back into the Sundom. All of us.”

The hush fell heavy on the guards. All murmurs stopped, even the frantic roaring in Avad’s head fell silent for that one moment. The bear cub hiccupped, burying its head into Aloy’s red hair.

“Your Radiance,” Vanasha’s silky voice whispered as she stepped closer. “I think this conversation would be better if it were more contained.”

He inclined his head at her and she nodded. He turned back out to face the scene below him. “Guards,” he ordered in the sternest voice he could muster. “escort each man to a separate Shade-Cell. Provide them with food and water and comfortable lodgings. They’ve had a long journey. I want him,” he said, pointing to Sylens. “brought to my Council Chambers. I want him locked in Radiance Keep until I pardon his leave.”

“So accommodating,” Sylens said as he rose to his feet, with only a little sarcasm. His eyes lingered on the bear cub, then he bent down to retrieve his lantern, only for a guard to reach over and snatch it from him.

Avad paid it no mind, gesturing to his vanguard. “I want one of you on him. The rest of you  with my guards.”

Sylens watched the many guards approaching him and his Shadow Carja with a bewilderment Avad doubted was sincere. The Carja guard handed the glowing lantern to the Oseram that would be guarding Sylens, then moved to help the others. “This many for my little band? Doesn’t that seem excessive?”

“I prefer to call it caution,” Avad said, beginning to turn away.

“Then I will prefer to call it flattery,” Sylens’ voice called after him, and he felt it sliver down his back, roiling in his gut. He didn’t rise to the jab. Before his death, Kadaman had taught him patience, and Avad would not disrespect his brother now.  

As he began to leave, he took Aloy by the arm when it looked like she would stay and walk with Sylens, leading her with him. “I know you want to question him now, but I advise against it,” he said once they were out of earshot of the foyer.

“Isn’t that my job,” she hissed at him, pulling on his grip. He held it, ignoring Vanasha’s wary eyes and the cub nipping at his fingers.

“I advise you prepare your questions, Aloy, as I am preparing mine,” he insisted. “I may not know much about your GAIA, but I know she is vital to you, to everything, and I have never met this man but I get the feeling you need to be ready before you face him.”

Aloy’s hazel eyes flashed angrily, but they began to cool the further they walked, a trick to thinking he wondered if she’d ever learned on her extensive travels, or did she just charge in like she had the last time a discovery led her to barge into his Council chambers, a discovery she was currently holding tightly to her chest. She was silent for the remainder of the walk, lost in her thoughts that he hoped were heeding his words, until she realised he wasn’t leading her to Radiance Tower, but instead down a flight of curling stairs until they emerged outside in the Low Gardens.

“Why are we here?” she demanded, pulling completely from his grip and stepping back. He let her, his hand dropping to his side heavily.

“I...” he began trying to form an excuse, then sighed, defeated. “I needed to breath,” was all he said, before collapsing into one of the wooden benches. For a moment Aloy didn’t seem to know what to do, and stepped away again as he put his head in his hands. The shouting and screaming had been too much for him. He hated looking so weak, especially in front of Aloy, but he wasn’t... he’d never been prepared for that.

_I forgot myself, brother. For that moment, and moments before. How did you keep yourself from forgetting?_

“Avad?” He was beginning to think Aloy had simply left him there, gone to find Sylens in her blunt, no-time-to-waste way.

“I’m fine,” he said, trying to be firm again, but his will had left him. Aloy did not, slowly sinking onto the bench beside him. She placed the cub on the ground and it toddled towards the closest pool, dipping its nose in and blowing bubbles into the water.

“Fine sounds a lot like coping.” When he didn’t respond, Aloy shuffled a little closer. “Is it because of what happened in there?”

Avad huffed bitterly. “I couldn’t have been more obvious unless I burst into a second sun, could I?”

“Even then it would of been a stretch,” Aloy said, smiling awkwardly. He knew these kinds of conversations, ones that forced her to slow down and relive something already in the past, were hard for her, and he felt a little guilty that she believed she had to do it now. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Do you want to listen?” he asked, coming out sarcastic, which was not what he’d intended.

“No,” she said, ever blunt. He forgot that sarcasm couldn’t work on the master of it. “But this isn’t about what I want.”

Gratitude swelled in his chest and threatened to burst free, and he realised how selfish he was being trying to bottle himself up, forgetting that he had friends as he tried to remember all his brother had taught him. Maybe it was time he shared those teachings, and shared the teacher he had admired and loved so much.

“Did you know that I had an older brother once?” he asked, broaching the subject slowly, feeling for what she might already know.

“No, I didn’t know. I thought you were Jiran’s oldest,” Aloy said, her head tilted towards him, curious.

“Kadaman,” he spoke the name aloud for the first time in years. “His name was Kadaman.”

“How much older was he?” Aloy asked, wanting everything he could give, letting him relearn his brother as he spoke.

“Nine years,” Avad answered, smiling at Aloy’s surprised look. “My father had many wives. Itamen is over fifteen years my junior. But Kadaman and I also shared a mother.” His smile turned warm, eyes glazing. “He was a true Carja, Aloy. If you’d seen him you would of been proud of our people.”

“He was a good man?” she asked, but her small grin said he’d told her all she needed for her opinion. Now she just wanted to learn.

“Man. I like that,” Avad murmured. “He wasn’t just the greatest Carja I’d ever known. He was the greatest man I would ever know.” Aloy looked like she wanted to say something, then decided against it. She instead checked on her cub as he splashed in the pools, then gestured for him to go on. “Kadaman was everything this tribe needed. He was fair, kind, firm and wise.”

“He sounds like you,” Aloy added.

Avad huffed but this time he smiled. “More like the other way around. I would follow him around whenever father allowed it. Kadaman wasn’t supposed to, but he would go over the lessons he was taught with me, and he would teach me all the armourer showed him that day.” He chuckled to himself, eyes growing far away. “Nil and I would spend hours practicing together.”

“N-Nil?” Aloy spluttered, her eyes widening so much Avad feared they’d pop out of her skull. Her next words shuddered out of her. “You... you knew Nil?”

“Since I was a small boy. He was brought to the palace during my childhood. We were the same age so my father made him my sparring partner. He was far better than I so the lessons were always a challenge. Even Kadaman struggled against him sometimes.” He chuckled, shaking his head. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the raw look that flashed briefly through Aloy’s eyes, the bright hazel dimming. A stab of guilt ripped through him, but he had to water the seeds he’d planted long ago. For all their sakes. For the promise he’d made. “I haven’t seen him for years.”

When he looked at her fully she was getting up to check on her cub, her hair keeping her face hidden, and he hated that she was upset because of what he did.

The cub was completely in the pool, heavy paws paddling, and looked up at her with something almost like a smile on its pudgy pink lips as she fished him out. His fur dripped, staining the smooth stone and Aloy’s clothes. She didn’t hug him to her chest like before, but let him shake the water from his body, then lay out on the sun warmed stone. When she returned to the bench she sat stiffly, her hazel eyes fixated, glazed and locked.

“Is everything all right?” Avad asked cautiously. He’d never seen her like this before. Then again, he’d never mentioned Nil until this moment, and his guilt was replaced by a sudden stab of jealously towards a man not even there. He’d tried for years to get Aloy to feel some semblance of interest in him, to feel anything towards him; to wonder of his future, to the point of maybe wanting to be a part of his reign. Never had she shown so much interest as she did now, trying to shake off the name of a the Carja hunter, and Avad had never felt so bitter. It wasn’t the feeling he sought from her, but it told him all the same of how close he was to having her.

She took in a deep breath, then forced a smile. “I’m fine. Keep telling me about Kadaman.”

He was unsure, curious, and for some reason he felt a little cheated, but did as she requested. “Kadaman... He was a first born in every right. A leader, a learned man. He could recite the Leaves from memory, beat any sword or spearman with words alone, or a flick of the wrist if it came to it.” Despite the shadow over his mood, a chuckle escaped him as he remembered the day Nil had beaten him in a spar because he didn’t know whether to strike low or high. “He had a rule. It followed him always, in whatever he did or said, and he always made sure I remembered it. The rule of No Hesitation.”

“No hesitation?” Aloy repeated, trying to work it through in her head. It was years later and Avad still stumbled over the simple rule.

“He always said that his gut never failed him. He followed his hunches and trusted his instincts. Nil was the same, and I think it’s what made him the better fighter.” Avad shook his head. “Kadaman always knew what to do, so he never hesitated, never second guessed himself. The people around him never doubted him. They loved him because he never wavered, he stood tall and towards the Sun. He... he...”

“He was prepared,” Aloy said and he watched it dawning on her. “He knew he was going to be a Sun-King, so he was prepared for it.”

“He was firstborn,” Avad said again, shrugging his shoulders like he didn’t feel the weight of all the stone in Meridian crushing down upon him. “He knew it was his responsibility, so he had the lessons, the tutors, the meetings. He spent his whole life preparing for his future, but it all went to nothing. Now the second born rules in his stead, starting with nothing but the model of my father to show me how to never lead my people, and the memory of a brother butchered in his bed.” Just the thought made him shudder and he felt like crying. “Kadaman would of known what to do in that room, without help. He wouldn’t of hesitated. He wouldn’t of been so weak.”

Aloy remained quiet for a long moment. Maybe she was thinking about what he’d said. Maybe she was still thinking about Nil. He wanted to ask how she might know him, but just his name had practically shut her down. He was desperate to know why, but he had done all he could bear to do, even though she had no idea what her reaction had done to him, and he didn’t intend for her to find out, so he stood from the bench and offered her his hand.

“It is time we face the Tower.”

She took his hand and stood, whistling for the cub. It cantered after them as they began to head inside.

“You’ve been training him?” Avad asked, impressed as the cub fell in beside her, trotting awkwardly to keep up with Aloy’s long strides.

“More the other way around,” she said, her voice regaining some of its usual humour. “He yaps for hours if he thinks I’ve left him behind, and steals my food to let me know he’s there. He’s made sure I learn never to forget him again.” he almost thought he saw her smile. At the door she stopped Avad with a hand on his shoulder. “Kadaman would be proud to see you surrounded by friends, Avad, instead of as alone as he probably felt. It’s the strongest man who can share the load in his heart.”

She ducked into the tower before he could respond, and it was her footsteps echoing on the stone steps, the cubs claws clicking with each flight of the tower, that reminded him of his own feet. He jogged to catch up with her and the cub.

He didn’t plan on saying anything. He’d forgotten to plan his questions for the dark skinned man, Sylens, but then they reached the door to his council chambers, and Aloy spoke only two words. “No hesitation.”

Avad took a deep breath. “No hesitation.” Then opened the door.

Sylens tried to stand to greet them, but the Oseram at his back grabbed his shoulder and forced him back into his seat. Derric, broad at his shoulders, broader at his waist, and a thrice broken nose under his helm, was one of Erend’s finest van-guardsman and his presence relaxed Avad. Sylens didn’t look as slack, back stiff in the wooden chair, hands unshackled, splayed palm up on the table, Derric looming over his shoulder, a small party of Carja guards occupying the room.

“I’d bow,” Sylens said, expression flat. “but I seem a little incapacitated.”

“That’s how I wanted you,” Avad said, going to the chair across from Sylens. Aloy stood at his back. Her and Derric shared a nod. They’d fought together during the battle for Meridian. Bonds like that lasted, no matter what helm covered the face. Avad could feel her glaring across the table at the man before him, dressed like a Nora, tattooed like a Banuk, spoken like a Carja. He leaned back in his chair. “Start from the beginning.”

Sylens glanced up at Aloy, then back at Avad. “Which beginning?”

Avad could feel Aloy bristling behind him. “I assume you had something to do with the Derangement six years ago, and Aloy’s actions that prevented it from overtaking our world.”

“You assume correctly,” Sylens admitted with a small nod of his tattooed head. His eyes kept darting to the bear cub. “Forgive me but, before we proceed, may I see the animal?”

Avad was looking to Aloy for an answer but she gave one before he’d finished turning in his chair. “No.”

“Be reasonable, Aloy,” Sylens said. “I watched back on when you found this creature, I thought you of all people would understand my need to see it in person. To touch it!”

“You watched _back_?” Aloy repeated, her voice like ice. “You found when I’d found him and watched it?” She was raging now, worse than Avad had ever seen her. “What else have you _watched back,_ Sylens? How much of my life have you invaded?”

“This cub is the first seen in-”

“You touch him and I will sever your hand with your own lance,” she said in the eerie calm that only one who reaches the other side of anger can hold within them. This man had no remorse for his actions, no regard for the violated feelings Aloy must be holding close to her for fear of looking weak. Avad tried to remember that as Sun-King he had to hold impartial judgement, but in his chest he felt hot rage drip angrily on the intruders chances at a fair trial.

Sylens slumped back into his seat, eyes narrowed, but he was too poised to glare. He took in a deep breath, calming himself. Behind him, Avad could hear Aloy doing the same.

“I aided Aloy in discovering the truth behind what the Eclipse was doing six years ago,” he began. “Their leader, Helis, was an old colleague of mine. I built the Eclipse and used his fanaticism to lead them, but he and HADES betrayed me, so, as you can imagine, I went in a new direction that shared my interests of not dying.”

“Switch again,” Aloy hissed at him, and for a moment Avad thought the dark skinned man looked scared.

“I’ll skip ahead. After your business with the Spire, Aloy, something I had hoped would happen took place. I admit now that not telling you sooner was a mistake, but I do not regret lying to you. When I said my Lance would kill HADES, I lied. It was only meant to destroy his body, like crippling the enemy, and make him reliant on me once again. Without a body, HADES had to find a place he could survive.” Sylens gestured to the pulsating lantern on the table, placed out of his reach. “I took him into my custody, vowing to not make the same mistakes I had in the past.”

“You had no right to do that,” Aloy said, her voice barely above a snarl. “You’re the one who gave him his power in the first place.”

“So who better to not make that mistake again? Or would you of preferred some Oseram oaf confused by his own shadow guarding HADES?” Sylens snapped back. Behind him Derric gripped the shaft of his hammer tighter, stomping the butt into the stone. Sylens flinched. “I took him into this Lantern and haven’t let it leave my sight since. I first took shelter in the body of a Titan.”

“A Metal Devil?” Aloy gasped and Avad’s heart twisted as he realised the enormity of this man’s insanity, to even go near one so evil as a Devil.

“I thought you of all people were at least a little evolved, Aloy,” Sylens sighed sufferingly, glancing pointedly at Avad.

The door opened behind them. Erend and Vanasha hurried inside. “The Shadow Carja have been secured,” Erend reported. “My guys are with yours, keeping an extra eye or two on them, just to be sure. If we hear even a whisper between them, we’ll shut it down.”

“Don’t look so proud of yourself, Oseram,” Sylens said with an irritation unjustified to the simple report. How much had this man already spied on them? “My men are far more versed in communication than mere words.”

“We’d be happy to chop off some hands as well, if you’d like,” Erend replied, glaring at Sylens.

Avad suddenly wished he’d asked for them to not be disturbed. He tapped the table, regaining his prisoners attention. “If you could continue your confession?”

“Confession?” Sylens asked, brows furrowing. “A confession implies that I’ve done something wrong.”

“You let that thing live,” Vanasha said, tilting her chin towards the lantern. How long had they been waiting in the hall to of overheard that?

“And used it accordingly.” When Sylens looked to them, his eyes were on Aloy, not Avad, round and excited. “I’ve learned so much. It’s funny how compliant one becomes when you sever him from his legs. He needed me again, more than ever, and he sang like a bird. Coding like the Old Ones, how they made him. How they made his brothers and sisters and how they all linked them together. It was more than I could ever imagine Aloy. I can understand why the Old Ones were obsessed with their _computers._ ”

“He told you how to fix GAIA,” Aloy surmised, and Sylens nodded, but his face darkened slightly.

“He did, on one condition.”

“You bargained with a lantern?” Erend asked, watching the red light coil across the table.

Sylens looked ready to say something, but Derric shifted his huge weight behind him, and the man fell quiet. “I bargained with a voice over a thousand years old,” he said instead, and Derric settled. “And in return for my promise, he gave me more than I could of ever hoped for.”

“What did he make you swear?” Aloy asked.

“That once GAIA was complete, he and his other sub-functions were not to be re-shackled to her.”

“You’re breaking their chains?” Aloy asked, voice pitched with such outrage that the cub beside her whined.

Avad was now completely lost. Aloy had told him of GAIA maybe once or twice, but the first time had taken her hours of explaining just for him to get the gist, and thinking about it still made his head hurt. Erend and Vanasha looked as equally confused.

“Their chains are already broken, Aloy,” Sylens said in a hard voice. “I just promised that they would remain that way. We’ve survived this long without putting them back under lock and key.”

“Just about,” Vanasha said, staring right back at the look Sylens shot her, unflinching.

“How much have you fixed?” Aloy demanded, voice hot, her movements jerky as she came to the edge of the table. Avad knew this Aloy. It was achingly close to the same way she got when in the city too long, cooped up like a caged boar or fox, on the brink of becoming out of hand.

Avad sat up straighter in his chair. “I think we need to address the matter of the Shadow Carja in Meridian, first,” he said. “Why did you arrive with them?”

“Avad-” Aloy began in protest.

“Why were they with you and why did you bring them here?” Avad asked more forcefully, shooting Vanasha a quick look. Aloy was beginning to get worked up, and he didn’t want a repeat of his envoy meeting last week. “We will discuss everything in time, but I hold this matter as the most important. Speak, now.”

Sylens’ eyes darted between the two of them, then settled on Avad. “I already told you. To be absolved back into the Sundom. Helis led them into war and I admit that I was no better, using their religion to manipulate them.”

“How did you come upon them?” Avad demanded. He could feel Aloy pacing behind him.

“In the sport of honesty, I’ll admit that they came to me.” Sylens looked behind him, as if expecting one of his Shadow Carja to be there, maybe the one he’d looked to before. Instead he found Derric, and he sighed, turning back to Avad. “I was alone in my Titan. It had barely a pulse of power, but enough. It fed the machines I built to replicate the Old Ones _computers_ , and there I began my rebuilding of GAIA, to the best of my abilities. It was also where I began to hear them.”

“They still had the Focuses you built them,” Aloy said, a sharp edge to her voice as she leaned across the table. “The Focuses you used to spy on them! Did you whisper in their ears and promise sanctuary if they did your bidding? Did you force them to be your slaves?”

“Aloy!” Avad snapped, standing. “If you cannot contain yourself then you will be escorted out.”

“He used the Eclipse before, he will do it again,” Aloy said, her voice forceful and unwavering.

“Or he wishes what he actually says,” Avad said back. “The Shadow Carja wishing to be a part of my kingdom again will strengthen my people’s will.”

“A will that needs strengthening is one already broken!” Aloy snapped so suddenly even Vanasha blanked. Erend watched, his mouth open in shock, and Avad heard the cubs claws skittering on the stone floor as it hid under the table it had pissed on. Aloy’s hazel eyes had gone to steel as she glared at Avad, Sylens seemingly forgotten. “You let your Lords squabble amongst themselves and openly defy your orders, and while you brood over your failed reforms they plot to take the Carja back to the way your father ruled them.”

“I give them a choice!” Avad said sharply, her words cutting sharp.

“And the Sundom laughs at you! Kadaman would be ashamed!”

“Aloy!” Vanasha’s voice cut through the thick air between them.

Avad didn’t know what was worse for his reputation, being yelled at by a Nora woman over his rule, or having to be saved by a Carja woman. The Carja guards glanced at each other nervously. Derric shifted uncomfortably. He would care later, Vanasha would remind him that he had to, but right now he felt his soul split from the knife Aloy had plunged through his heart. He’d shared Kadaman with her. Only Uthid had truly known him, he’d given his brothers memory to someone he could talk to, and she’d repaid him with a shouting match and petty slights for not getting her immediate way. Part of him wondered what discovering this cub had done to her, but the bigger part, the part she’d stabbed and twisted the blade into, just wanted her gone from his sight.

He had to regain some of his command. “Take her outside. Now.” he ordered, nodding to the guards. “She is not to attend any meetings from here on out.”

He could save some semblance of pride with Derric present, but as the Carja guards came around the table to Aloy, and she threw off their arms, he nodded to Vanasha, and she slinked behind them. He would need her powers of influence and discretion to keep word from spreading of this disastrous meetings.

At the door Aloy paused, whistling. The claws skittered as the cub went to follow, but as its nose peaked out from under the table, Avad stooped, picked the cub up and handed it, squirming, to Erend. “She may see her cub once she’s settled in her quarters. Erend, you will care for it until then.”

“Avad, you can’t-”

“The Sun-King’s word is final,” he said sternly, returning her cold glare. She broke first, storming from the room, his guards and Vanasha behind her. He heard the tower door slam, and could almost feel the stone shudder in his sandals. Erend sat awkwardly in his chair, and if he weren’t holding the cub Avad could be sure he’d be gripping the wineskin he carried on him. Across the table, Sylens sat in complete silence, his hands clasped in front of him. Derric’s broken nose was pointed resolutely at the ground. Suddenly exhausted, Avad splayed his hands on the table top, bowing his head and taking a few deep breathes, exhaling his embarrassment and anger.

“If it’s any consolation, I already know of her temper,” Sylens said in his smooth voice. “Maybe instead of locking her in a tower, you give her her lance and lock her in your training grounds. I imagine she’ll calm much quicker.”

“Maybe...” Erend murmured, busying himself with the cub when Sylens glanced at him.

Despite himself, Avad offered a tired smile. “That won’t be necessary.” Steeling himself for the long meeting ahead, he retook his seat. “Continue your story. Leave nothing out.”

"As you wish, Your Radiance. They came to me in trickles first, then..."

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	7. Uthid

Uthid had travelled all the way to Sunfall to discover what he already knew. Politics was a game for sneaky men who had never seen a bloodied blade, and he had no mind, or desire, for their schemes.

He strode firmly through the streets of Sunfall, head held high but a scowl deepening his features to the point where soldiers and officers avoided his gaze. He had to force to keep the embarrassed heat from his cheeks, blaming the blazing sun for any rising flush under his ornate metal mask, Glinthawk feathers cupping the side of his head. He’d decided to dress in his traditional Carja armour, the grey steel and red robes somehow heavier as he walked across the stone of his old home.

Old may be the wrong word, Uthid considered as he walked. The tents of the Sunfall slums were mostly gone, a scattering on the outer most fingers of the cities borders. It had been almost seven years since he’d last set foot anywhere near the Shadow Carja territory, and in that time primitive square stone huts had been erected amongst the rocky ground. Merchant stalls had been haphazardly thrown together, nothing close to the urbane trade network of Meridian’s city merchants, but sophisticated enough for Uthid to be impressed. Metal Shards were traded if a person was travelling out of the Shadow Sundom, but here the most prized currency was still food. Uthid’s heavy boots clinked on the stone pathways leading to the high gates of the old king’s summer palace.

But he was heading the opposite way, away from the grand Summer Palace and the subsequent slightly better built homes fanning out against the city walls where the nobles of Shadow lived, and especially far from the wide circle walls of the Sun Ring . He was an envoy, but he refused to go anywhere near that Palace in evening hours, having no doubt that an enemy of the true Sun-King would have no trouble sending him his War Councillor’s head.

Instead he travelled to his requested lodgings, an inn like structure on the outskirts of the city, a place you’d expect road weary travellers to collapse into, not dignitaries and war generals to make their temporary home. Uthid stepped through the low stone doorway and immediately the stench of sweat, ale and cooking meats bombarded his senses. It was loud, hot and unsavoury, and it took him back to the glorious days of his youth in one stench filled wave.

His company were all there. He’d ordered his escort to stay behind. He did not need protectors like a dignitary who hadn’t bothered to learn the customs of the lands he was visiting. Uthid knew these Shadow Carja better than he cared. He’d been one of them for over half his life.

His Captain, Taeko, rose from the table to greet him. “How did the meeting go, my Lord.”

Uthid grimaced, from the afternoon and the title. Weeks of travel and his men still referred to him as Lord, after relentless orders not to. He’d given up in the end. “Not favourably,” he answered.

“Ah, are those gloomy buggers still as mad as their dead king?” Taeko murmured, keeping his voice low so that the other patrons of the inn could not hear him.

“Madder,” Uthid grumbled. A hoarse burst of laughter filled the inn. It was his men, those he’d sent away but not dismissed from duty. “The men-”

“Are not drunk,” his Captain said hurriedly. He gestured for Uthid to come closer. “Those off duty have been enjoying some Shadow Carja wine, but those still in service blend in well, don’t you think?”

Another bought of laughter filled the inn, some of Uthid’s men swaying as scantily clad woman whispered in their ears while Carja in Shadow boasted of the Nora and other tribes they’d killed, while his men on duty laughed a little more forcefully and listened with veiled intensity. Uthid grimaced again. Taeko should of been sent to the meeting. Even with men half drunk he was more politically savvy than Uthid.

“Make sure they remain sober,” he ordered, then strode through the long stone hallway. It was so hot his mask was slipping against his skin. How his men could handle it for long hours, Uthid couldn’t fathom. He sometimes wondered why he was Carja when he seemed to disdain heat as much as he did. His men on duty reached for him, his arms or his amour, asking their captain to join them, then grumbling pointedly to their companions as he ignored them. His men were certainly dedicated to their roles, maybe they would join Murmurs troops in their retirement, and he had to resist the smile threatening at the thought. Would he make a good actor in his old age?

He’d taken the room at the back, as far from the noise as he could be. It still reached him, when a woman squealed in delight or a joke was particularly funny, but he was gifted the peace between those moments, and it was enough. He couldn’t say the same for the smell, but he was used to it. Liked it, in fact. He liked it more than the stench of jasmine and perfume that coated the Sunfall Palace. His armour still stank of it as he pulled it off, and each whiff of the flowery scents forced him back to the most sour afternoon of his life.

During his time as a Shadow Carja he’d rarely been admitted to the palace. His place had been with his men, and he’d liked it that way. The Sunfall palace was not a place for men to feel welcome, not men like him, anyway. He had no fancy for their brightly coloured robes and no liking for the way the headdresses towered two feet above the heads of the men who wore them. In a fight they’d get in the way, or fall over and topple the man wearing them. Give him sweat soaked armour and his sword any day.

He’d gone to the meeting alone. He didn’t want the Shadow Carja to feel threatened by the might of Avad’s presence across the Tribes lands. Looking back on it, bringing Taeko would of been a better choice, one his Captain had advised and Uthid had ignored. He’d been placed at one end of the nine feet long stone table, and at the other end a gaggle of Shadow Carja and their honour guards clustered. He forced his fingers not to drum the stone as they regarded him. First rule of battle was to not let the enemy see you were unnerved.

“Shadow General Uthid,” one of the Councilmen finally said.

“Just Uthid is fine,” Uthid said, trying not to sound awkward. “That’s an old title, one I’ve long left behind.”

“Was that before or after you fled the Shadow Carja?” another asked, voice clipped, and Uthid winced under his mask. He’d already given them ground.

“Shadow General is given to a man who fights many battles to earn the name. I’m woe to admit my battling was ended long before I changed my path.” He hoped that was enough to sway from the topic of his defection, though the Shadow Carja were, obviously, best known for their ability to hold a grudge.

The Shadow Carja nobles before him shared some looks and hushed words. Their guards glared not so subtly at Uthid. He understood their hatred. He’d likely served with their fathers, and abandoned them as Avad’s grip on the lands began to tighten. He loved his King, but he couldn’t deny the shame he felt towards that part of his past.

“A path you chose?” the first noble asked.

Uthid’s expression darkened under his mask, his voice becoming steel. “A path my circumstances directed me towards. A path I’m sure you all remember guiding me on. Bahavis would have as well before his time came for him.”

The nobles shifted in their seats, sharing looks cast with anger and embarrassment. Uthid remembered how noblemen handled insults and threats, how they couldn’t shake off a simple slight with a laugh or hard look or a few blows of fists. He might pay for that moment of emotional weakness. Not now, they wouldn’t openly arrest Avad’s Envoy, but he’d have to sleep lightly from now on.

“You came here of the Sun Slayer’s volition,” the nobleman with the clipped voice hurried on. Uthid bristled at their term for Avad but said nothing. The action reminded him that these were no longer his people. “He denied to send word ahead of you for the cause of the meeting. Clearly he trusts you more than would be wise.”

“His is the wisdom of the Sun,” Uthid said, barely keeping his voice contained. He’d dealt with petty men all his life. These men may be nobles here, but they knew outside of their Shadow Sundom they were powerless. “I may not be a primed diplomat, but his is a rule I trust, as does every citizen of the Sundom.”

When no murmuring occurred, Uthid felt his skin prickle. Lack of discussion meant a plan. He didn’t like the idea of his enemies having plans against him. “Every citizen?” A new voice asked, though from which covered mouth, Uthid couldn’t guess. “Words of your King’s _wisdom_ has spread amongst these citizens, Ge-Uthid. Nothing distasteful,” he added, seeing the darkening of Uthid’s expression. “though they seem to whisper discontent. Apparently a lot of his Noblemen have mutterings on those little ideals of his-”

“His Reforms,” Uthid hissed, his anger flaring.

“-on the closing of the sacred pits,” the nobleman carried on, his voice growing firm. The weight of their eyes pressed on Uthid, making him feel trapped. “Now, we don’t want to be deemed unreasonable, but your Sun Slayer is simply demanding too much. He’s already put thousands of Carja out of work and now he wants to take even more from the people?”

Uthid’s jaw clenched. “You’re talking about your slaves. Sun-King Avad took nothing. What he did was give those people their freedom. _You’re_ the ones taking their livelihood from them by refusing to give them the wages they need to live. Your poverty is your own undoing, the rising prosperity in the Sundom is proof enough of it.”

He could feel the glares on him now, mutters rearing from some of the noblemen before him. He ignored it all. Their pompous attitudes to men’s lives and woman’s freedoms was exactly what drove him out, and he suppressed the shiver as he remembered that Vanasha had been forced to work amongst this folly of mankind for years.

“Your points are noted, General,” a softer spoken nobleman said, though he sounded none the less displeased. “We will consider them, so long as you consider that this wisdom you speak of that your Sun-King possesses goes against our traditions as a people. It is not only us that believes this.”

Uthid knew this. People in Meridian knew it as well. But Avad had been there to speak to them, reassure them that what they were doing was right. He needed to do that now, not shout at them that they were wrong.

“My Lords, did you pay the men who built your homes?” Uthid asked, forcing his voice calm.

One of the noblemen scoffed. “Of course not.”

Uthid felt his stomach roil at their brazen disregard for their fellow man. Putting themselves into another person’s shoes meant nothing to these people, and he doubted their slippered feet would last one day in a pair of cracked and battered war boots.

“Do you pay your soldiers?”

This time the nobleman hesitated. “Yes.”

“And, tell me, who’s loyalty do you trust?”

He could feel their want to discuss the question, yet refused to do it in front of him. It would show their weakness. Suddenly the lack of murmurs was in Uthid’s favour.

“The Carja in Shadow are of one people. We hold all of their loyalty just as King Jiran did.”

“The late King Jiran,” Uthid reminded them. “So I guess that means you don’t leave this palace often? Do you not go to your homes? To the common mans pubs?”

“An why would we debase ourselves to that level?” a voice asked boredly from the back.

“To hear just how much of your people’s loyalty you hold.” He had them now, from the way their heads tilted, the way they leaned in. “All men can be bought, but sellswords and soldiers will only fight their monies worth. People who love their leaders will fight until death.”

“Our people love us,” one nobleman protested too quickly for another to shush him.

“The people you refuse to pay? The people who live in huts and eat scraps?” Uthid asked. He took a deep breath. What he was about to say would be the pivot in the turning, it could glide smoothly, or hitch and derail completely. “You lost one of your greatest Generals because I had no love for your ways. The Carja in Shadow stay because of their faith in Jiran and his Sundom. If you lose that faith, you will lose them. But if you become a part of the reforms, fight to negotiate your rights and sign Avad’s treaty, you show your people how much you love them, and they will remain yours forever.”

The men before him remained silent for a long while, their guards behind them like statues. Uthid waited with the nervous calm years of life in battle had gifted him, hoping they couldn’t hear the thudding of his heart.

Finally, the one at the very front, the very first to speak to him, opened his mouth. “Negotiating is not part of our ways.” Uthid’s heart stopped. It was over. “Return in four days. We will have reached our final terms by then. If the Sun Slay... your Sun-King declines, then it is him who will bear the people’s wrath. Let it be known that we fought for their rights.”

 _Fought for their rights_. Uthid had wanted to spit on that. The Shadow Carja were somehow worse than the nobles Avad was already dealing with. They at least came to the meetings to negotiate, albeit obstinately.

He pulled off his Glinthawk feather mask, sighing in relief as the semi-cool air washed his sweating skin and the stench of perfume and jasmine retreated to the sweetly sour aroma of sweat, but hesitated as he reached for the rest of his armour. Two days had come and gone and night was beginning to fall. Avad’s messenger would be seeking him out, and a prickle of unease had him tightening his sword belt instead of loosing. He trusted his king, without question, and he’d been promised the man was a friendly. But night was falling and the Shadow had yet to show himself. Uthid’s heart stuttered unevenly every time the candles flickered, or he thought he heard a knock on his door. He hated the waiting, hated not knowing who this man was or how he was going to find hi-

A burst of raucous laughter filled the inn,.

How could he have been so stupid? His pride, his refusal to be anywhere near the Sunfall Palace, had cost Avad’s entire plan. If he didn’t show, if word got out that he requested to be far from the Palace as he could, Avad’s acquaintance would see that as a refusal to cooperate. Would he back out of Avad’s plan? Would he sell the secrets he had promised to Uthid to the noblemen of Sunfall. Uthid’s heart beat hard against his ribs, then stopped.

Would he think Uthid a traitor and come for him?

Without stopping to don his mask again, Uthid rushed from the room. His men’s laughter guttered as he stormed past them, gawking in alarm as he left the inn. It wasn’t too late. The sun had only just began to set. He could make it to where they should of been lodged and-

His first step into the busy streets was punctuated with a knife pressing against his side. He stiffened, his hand going to his sword hilt. “Don’t.” The whispered voice, male, was soft yet edged, the sharp cut of a Carja sword. Uthid lowered his hands, flattening them against his thighs. “Good. Walk like you would normally. Go into the markets. When you reach the overweight woman selling silks turn left. Do not speak to me.” Uthid did as the voice commanded. His first step was hesitant, but the knife stayed level at his side, unflinching, held in the kind of expert grip Uthid knew took years of training to master.

The markets bustled around them. So many people were pressing into them on all sides, never seeing, barely watching them as Uthid and the man moved through the crowds, the knife never jostling or shaking. The people would be a problem if Uthid wanted to fight his way free. They could get hurt. He needed space. He needed an opening big enough to slip free and draw his sword.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Uthid almost stumbled at the man’s voice. He wasn’t whispering now, and it resonated deep in his chest. “Let me save you the trouble, old man. You’re an envoy in our city about to draw his sword on one of its citizens the day you drag your sorry ass back from begging for a treaty for your king. How do you think the nobles would take that?”

Uthid didn’t reply. This man knew he was an envoy, which meant he’d been following him. For how long, Uthid couldn’t tell. He couldn’t remember if he recognised the voice, but something nagged at the back of his mind, an itch he couldn’t reach.

When they reached the woman selling silks big enough to cover a Behemoth Uthid swivelled on his heel, heading for a cluster of stone huts criss crossed into alleyways. The man moved in stride with him, matching Uthid’s march step for step. Was he a soldier? He moved almost like one, only more fluidly. It was a combination that baffled Uthid’s stilted steps, and when he came upon a ridged lift in the earth he almost stumbled and fell down the set of steps.

“Easy, old timer,” the voice chuckled. “I got you. Don’t break a hip.”

“Enough,” Uthid snapped. He was old, weathered by battle and, well, more battle, but he wasn’t that old, and as they descended the stairs, Uthid realised the sounds of the market were growing dimmer. “I could kill you with a broken arm, you-”

“But you won’t,” the man cut off, Uthid’s pride and temper flaring like blown on coals at the bored tone to his voice. Where did such arrogance come from? “Okay,” the man sighed, his hand lifting to the back of Uthid’s neck. Uthid tensed, reaching for his sword again. “Easy,” the man said, then wood scratched stone. The man pressed on his neck, lowering him. “Watch your head.”

Uthid ducked, putting his hands out, and realised he was moving through a doorway. “Where are you taking me?”

“A place we can’t be heard.” There was a pause. “That sounded more ominous than I intended.”

“You make a habit of trying to scare people with your words?” Uthid snarled.

The man had the gall to laugh. “Oh, believe me, old man, if I wanted to scare you, you’d be scared.”

He let Uthid go completely, the knife falling away from his side. Uthid spun, hand on his sword hilt, but he couldn’t see enough in the dark room. Then, light bloomed out of nothing, and he found he could see too much, the candle too sudden for his eyes to adjust. When he blinked the black spots away, the man was leaning over a candle, tending the small flame with large, powerful hands. He wore a pair of dark red Carja trousers, loose and flowing, and a pair of sandals, and was completely bare from the waist up. In the flickering light of the candle an old,  jagged scar curved from under his left shoulder blade, circling his hip, the darkened skin puckered, until it  curved across his abdomen and disappeared into the waistband of his trousers. His only other clothing was a mask across his face, Snapmaw fangs curving around his cheeks, getting smaller until they ridged his dark brows. Pale grey eyes shone underneath.

Uthid stood tall, refusing to give him any ground. “Are you the Shadow who Walks?”

“That’s one of my names, but call me Shadow, otherwise we’ll be here all night.” He spoke fluidly, words coming easy and going smoothly, yet there was a sternness, refusing to give anything away. He’d had his fun but he and Uthid both knew it hadn’t worked. Scaring a man like him, like either of them, wasn’t going to work, so they may as well get down to business. Uthid grimaced at the rueful inclination to like something about the man before him.

“What is your name?”

The man snorted. “If I told you that why would I make up the other?”

“You seem inclined for the dramatics. I thought I’d let you have your fun,” Uthid said.

The man snorted again, tilting his head to the side in amusement. “It’s best I not say. This is already delicate enough as it is. You know how age affects the mind. Can’t have you blurting something out to those nobles.”

“So what you do concerns them?” Uthid asked, though it wasn’t a question. Why else would this Shadow worry about them?

Shadow blinked, the black whiskers on his chin and lips lifting as he smirked. “Damn, you’re good. I can see why Avad chose you.” He ran a hand through his dark hair, long enough on the top to curl around his eyes but shaved at the sides. “Think of them as my investors, for now. And, no, I can’t say for what. That would definitely give the game away.”

“You’re working for Avad?” Uthid asked instead of questioning the investments, seeing none of this as a game.

“Our interests are mutual,” the man said, an edge to his voice, the pride of the young. “I work for no one.” But then he let out a breath. “I owed him a favour. It took him long enough, but he finally cashed it in.”

“Must of been a pretty big favour. So you’re in his debt?” Uthid surmised and Shadow’s face soured. Uthid shook his head, dismissing the topic. So far today he’d been humiliated by the nobles and his own political inadequacy, been outmanoeuvred by his Captain and had a knife held to his side and taken against his will. He’d had enough of today. “Avad said you’d have information for me?”

“Right to the punch kind of soldier,” the man said, though he seemed pleased that they’d moved on. He reached into a pocket of his silk trousers and pulled out a small, tightly wrapped scroll, sealed with black wax. But when Uthid reached for it, the man pulled it back. “This is not information for you. It is information for you to bring back to Meridian. For Avad’s eyes only.”

Uthid’s brow furrowed and his unease prickled. “Said like someone trying to hide something until it can hurt the king.”

“Said like someone protecting his identity so years of work doesn’t fall apart,” Shadow said back icily. He held out the scroll again. “Avad knows this is coming. He knows it’s important. The fewer people who know about it, the better.”

Uthid took the scroll, placing it into a pocket in his armour pressed against his side without even looking at it. “Your caution is wise, but unnecessary. I won’t be looking at this.”

“Why?” Shadow asked, cocking his head to side as he crossed his arms again. Uthid opened his mouth, but Shadow spoke over him. “And don’t lie. I will know.”

Uthid grumbled, glancing at the wall, but refused to be embarrassed, and said firmly, “I can’t read.”

Shadow’s eyebrows shot up. “You can’t read? As in just Carja glyphs or is everything like weird pictures for you?”

Uthid glared at him. “Do not speak to me like I am a child. What is on the scroll?”

“That’s for me and Avad to know and you to never find out,” Shadow said, drawing himself up, trying to seem intimidating.

Uthid raised an eyebrow. If he hadn’t already spent six years dealing with Vanasha’s evasive manoeuvres he’d probably of lost his temper by now. Instead he stepped up to Shadow, his hand on his sword hilt. “Don’t try to scare me, boy. Men who think they can scare me usually don’t think for long, and they come away with a lot worse than a scar.”

“Whoa, I meant no disrespect,” Shadow chuckled, holding up his hands, but something in his voice had changed. When he lowered his hand, one rested on the hip the scar circled, his thumb tracing the old wound. “Damn, you can be intimidating. Maybe it’s the lighting. I mean, you’re no Sunspear, and I could definitely take you. But you do make me fear for my life a little, so congratulations, that’s no small feat.”

Uthid gave a rueful smile. “People still talk of the Sunspear?”

“Are you kidding?” Shadow said, steely eyes widening. “People still talk about his battle at the Whispering Falls. How he threw an entire Nora tribe over the edge. Or back when he was just a soldier and he saved his Commander from being crushed by a Snapmaw by holding the beasts jaws open with his bare hands. I’ve got my fair share of stories but they either start three drinks in and a less than advisable knife game or, well, like this,” he said, gesturing to the shadowed room. “The closet I got to an honourable story is the time I almost got the Anointed herself to duel me to the death, but there isn’t much fun in an almost. I mean, I know guys who tell stories of being in battle with him, but those guys are my age, like the Sunspear never ages.” Shadow regarded Uthid, taking in his wrinkled skin and weathered hands. “Did you ever serve with him?”

“I didn’t have the pleasure.”

Shadow snorted. “Your loss. Mine too. Looks like we both missed our chance.”

Uthid had little patience for this, for young men who lived in stories and legacies that will never be their own, aspiring for glory, then making back alley deals instead of going out and building those legends. This man was young, but old enough to have fought in the battle for Meridian if he’d chosen to. He had had missed nothing, he just couldn’t be bothered to go out and find it. “Are we done here?”

“Do you have anything else to ask, old man?” Shadow asked, leaning against the far wall.

Uthid fought off his growl and turned for the door. Before he ducked for the exit, he paused, turning back to the man. He was watching him with his silver eyes, a silver that should be memorable, yet Uthid still couldn’t decide if he’d met the man before. “Have you ever been to Meridian?”

“Me?” It was the first genuine surprise Uthid had seen on the man’s face. Shadow hesitated, then shook his head. “Not in this life.”

Uthid was sure if Shadow ever did go to Meridian he and Vanasha would get stuck, years spent having a single conversation, both as evasive as each other. They’d need to have their food brought to them and eat small bites between pointed silences and sip their wine between raised eyebrows. But the thought of Vanasha enjoying this proud pup flared Uthid’s temper again, and he turned to go.

“Hey, old man.” Uthid paused in the doorway, casting an annoyed look over his shoulder. Shadow, his back against the wall, arms crossed over his bare, muscled chest, watched him with his steely silver eyes. “Those nobles can't know about this. Remember-”

“This didn’t happen,” Uthid interrupted, tired, fed up, so he left without looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd finally take something outside of Meridian. Hope you guys liked my revamp of Sunfall. So who is Shadow? Who is this mysterious and revered Sunspear. If you guys got any theories, let me know!
> 
> And if you love my work, check out the link below to show your Love and Support!
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> [](https://ko-fi.com/A17123XG)
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> http://ko-fi.com/ruerue


	8. Aloy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally I don't put a before fic note, but ya'll need to appreciate No+Name with me! 
> 
> That is No+Name for those in the back!
> 
> This reviewer introduced me to an amazing oppertunity that could keep me writing much longer than I thought possible. Everything from here on out is because of No+Name being the most supportive fan I've ever had in all my eight years and ya'll need to show some love! 
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> I'm serious! Let them know with a reference in your Comments, because each time you appreciate me, I gotta share some of that credit, because without dedicated readers like this, I wouldn't be here for you guys!

_Hades was there, right in front of her, dragged by that thunderous beast, each step of its eight legs quaking the ground beneath her. Hades pulsed warmth as it slid past her, hummed that sickening single note. She chased it through the remains of Meridian Village, the fire all consuming, the screams thundering around her. All around her she could hear life ending, cracking, breaking apart. This wasn’t what thousands of years, why Elisabet had forfeited her life, had been for, and that fury pressed her on through the wreckage._

_She wouldn’t stop._

_She couldn’t stop._

_Soldiers screamed and cried out. She needed to keep going. They were trained, they could handle themselves, and she was running on borrowed time. But then the Longleg leaped through the flaring embers of the remains of a house. Wooden beams exploded towards her, knocking her to the ground. Cinder’s and sparks rained down, searing the skin on her arms as she threw them up to protect her face. The LongLeg screeched, corruption oozing from its metal feathers, staining the ground, crawling towards her as the Longleg loomed, head back, fixed on her to strike like a scorpions tail._

_“Aloy!”_

_An arrow pierced the Longleg, right where its heart should of been, a spearman flying over her head to stab down into the metal beasts neck. Hands grabbed her and pulled her back across the scorched ground._

_“I thought death wasn’t on your agenda,” the voice belonging to the hands laughed, ridiculously warm and light amidst the chaos and death._

_“Nil?” Aloy choked, because who else could be that happy?_

_“To think I almost missed this,” he chuckled, more to himself, silver eyes sparkling with amusement. In front of them Uthid lunged again at the Longleg. The other Carja soldiers caught up, penning the beast, keeping it encircled with their spears while fire raged at its back. Uthid stabbed at the Longleg again, pinning its foot right through to the earth below, darting back before its beak could skewer him. Nil whistled in amazement. “Damn, that old man’s fast.”_

_He laughed again as he crouched beside her. His hands, burned from the fires, callous and scarred from years of spears, arrows and battles, traced the welts on her face where the sparks had landed with a softness she couldn’t fathom. “The people-”_

_“Evacuated. They’re missing all the fun,” Nil said, moving on to check her arms. “Not as fun as bandits, but damn these machines are putting up one hell of a fight. For once oil can sate the blood.”_

_“They’re corrupted,” she said, still a little stunned from the Longleg, even more from Nil’s gentle touch. It was so out of place, the ravaged homes, the raging fires, the screams and cries of men, and the gentle glide of his skin over hers._

_Nil smirked at her, completely oblivious to what he was doing. “And you’re fighting to end this?”_

_“Stick to bandits, Nil,” she said, finding her wits again and searching to put the ground back under her feet._

_“Only if you-” He pushed her back down, surging to his feet faster than Aloy had ever seen a man move, too fast to grab his spear, throwing his bare hands up as the Longleg came shrieking down on them. His arms bent, his knee buckled, his back bowing under the weight of the Longleg’s body._

_Nil’s chest heaved inches from Aloy’s head, slick with sweat, but he wouldn’t cave, crouched over her. “Nil!” she cried, struggling to get up, to draw her bow and pierce the dammed beasts heart._

_“The spire calls for you.” He struggled to get the words out. “Go!” The Longleg’s legs kicked and flailed, its claws searing across the flesh of Nil’s hands and arms. Blood ran rivers down his marred skin, tendrils of corruption flooding into the wounds, but his body refused to give in. “GO!”_

_“Kill that oversized goose, you rusted drips of Watcher oil!” Uthid’s voice roared through the smoke and haze._

_Spears flew through the air. One caught the Longleg in the wing, another glancing off its head, a third spearing right through the leg about to rake across Nil’s back. The one that took it down struck it right through the chest, the pouch fizzing and bubbling around the spear head. The beast toppled and Nil’s arms flopped at his sides, his head bowing with dead weight. Aloy reached up, unafraid of the Corruption and blood trickling across his skin, touching his chest, searching for a heartbeat. She hissed when the corruption sought a new host, brushing it off his body like pesky insects._

_His smile was still too content, almost blinding, finding so much life while death came down like cannon fire. He was alive, alive and smiling at her like he didn’t even notice the carnage around them, or the damage done to his body. She couldn’t help but smile back._

_“If you were this set on dying I would of taken you up on your offer,” she murmured, lost in his calm._

_His smile fluttered from a wince, but he held it as he looked down at her. “I totally could of taken yo-” His words died as the Longleg gave a final shriek, its beak shearing into Nil’s back, dragging down across the skin as the Machine jerked. The spasm of its death wrenched the barbed beak out by his hip, blood spraying Aloy’s cheek and chest as she screamed, the copper tang of Nil’s life on her tongue. He did not fall, but she watched his strength leave him, his weight slumping into his knees, his shoulders giving up on holding his posture._

_She got to her knees, mirroring him, holding his face in her hands. “Teb will find you,” she whispered, her voice shaking. Her hand couldn’t cover the horrible gash and for once she feared even touching another person’s wound. His life pulsed out of his back and waist, each spurt of blood weaker than the one before it. “He’s a stitcher. He’ll... he’ll fix this.”_

_Blood dribbled over Nil’s lips, the smile still in place. “T-to think I almost missed this...” he repeated, and each word was an arrow in her heart. He had. He’d almost gotten away. “Head for the Spire, Aloy.” His voice grated, his breathe shuddering over the last time he’d say her name. “But where you must go now... I can’t follow.”_

_***_

Her voice cracked over a shuddered no, starting herself awake, but unaware of consciousness until she rolled over, eyes screwed shut, all consuming flames dancing behind her lids. She lurched into sitting and checked her hands. Clean. Not a speck of dirt or dust from her travels. No red.

How long had she been travelling? Having those dreams? Going it alone? How long had gone by since that day? She could remember nothing but Nil’s slumped form as Uthid dragged her away as the Longleg’s chest exploded, engulfing Nil’s corpse, and for a moment Rost had appeared before her. Uthid’s yelling in her ear shattered the vision. She remembered his voice, hoarse from smoke, screaming that she couldn’t save him but Meridian still needed her. A soldier knew that the battle came first, that there was no time for grief, and Uthid had managed to inspire that in her in that moment, her rage, anguish and pain, all for Hades.

But he’d never told her of soldiers after the battle. Of the dreams, the waking nightmare of a single word sending her spiralling back to that day. She hated Nil for doing this to her. Deciding to play the hero and come to a battle he had no part in was his decision, yet her dreams were plagued and his shadow followed her wherever she went. He deserved what he got, her heart told her.

Her room was cold. She rarely lit fires any more, not unless she was outside, and the chill helped bring her back, freezing her memories away, deep inside. Freezing their hold on her that made them hurt so badly.

She got out of the bed she’d been sleeping in. She knew the guard outside had probably heard her cries, but she was too drained, despite just waking up, too care. The stones were too smooth under her feet, flattened by artisans and years of being walked over, but they were cool, grounding her further as she unhooked Elisabet’s globe from under her belt and held it to her chest. She waited until her heart slowed down. She didn’t trust herself to think until she could count the seconds between her heartbeats.

 _Think before you act, Aloy, because anyone can swing their fists._ Rost. She bowed her head, whispering his name. Death begets death, in the world and in her thoughts. One would lead to another, a stream flooding into an ocean that would drown her if she couldn’t keep afloat.

“Good thing you taught me to swim, huh, Rost,” she murmured to herself dryly. Her Focus lay on the table beside the bed, she could speak freely, though her hand drifted to her ear just to make sure. Just looking at it threatened to reignite her rage, but it cooled almost instantly when she remembered what had come from it.

She hadn’t seen Avad in two days. She hadn’t seen anyone. Not Vanasha, Erend or the cub. She’d become well acquainted with the guard that brought her meals, but their biggest interaction was when she’d tried to walk out of the room the second she’d been escorted into it. At this rate she’d take Blameless Marad for two minutes over another second of silence. The walls were small, plain stone, her one window faced east so she lost the sun within a few hours of the day. She’d even considered trying to escape out of the chimney, only to find it was grated at the top. This room was the anti to the way she’d lived for the past six years.

In her heart of hearts she hadn’t thought Avad had been serious about her sequestration. He was a king to a people, and she hadn’t taken his punishments seriously until he’d shackled one to her, and if one of his closest friends thought this way, then she couldn’t imagine what his envoys thought behind their closed doors.

She shook her head, feeling guilt roil like bile in her stomach, the miserable truth following that she deserved this punishment. How could she of said those things to Avad, and in front of his council? She knew Vanasha and Erend would never doubt Avad, they’d been better friends to him than she ever could be, but guards talked, Oseram boasted without thought over their mugs. And she’d brought up Kadaman, throwing his brothers memory in his face? Looking back on that day, that glitch in time where she’d snapped, it was like looking at someone else. She didn’t recognise herself.

She tried to go over everything that day, figure out what had transformed her into the verbal beast that had attacked one of her oldest friends. She had so few to begin with and the fear gripped her that this might mean the end of it.

Aloy gripped the bed post. She felt like she was about to vomit. She needed to get out of this room and find Avad.

As if her thoughts had been heard, the door to her prison opened. She straightened, catching her breath. “I need to see Av- the Sun-King. Please, let me out.”

Erend plodded into the room, the cub at his side. He looked down at the little bear, head cocking to mimic its movements. “Do you think it’s the tan? Should I try and get one?”

“Erend,” she sighed in relief, smiling for the first time in two days. It hurt her cheeks but it was worth it.

The cub toddled towards her, little _hicks_ with each step until it reached the bed and scrambled up, ripping the sheets unintentionally. She bent down, hiking him up, kneeling before him since he was too heavy to pick up now. He was growing quickly, and Aloy had the brief concern that he’d need bigger feeds.

Erend perched himself on the bed. “All this free time help you think up a name for him yet?”

Aloy looked up at him. “You haven’t named him?”

Erend’s face screwed up in a mixture of confusion and amusement. “I can’t name somebody else’s kid.”

Aloy gave him a flat look. “An animal can’t be a kid, Erend.”

He watched her fuss with the cub on the bed, checking its gums for anything stuck, then its claws to make sure nothing had gotten caught. “Sure,” was all he said, but Aloy didn’t like the way he was smiling.

“What made Avad let you in here?” she asked, checking the cubs ears next so she wouldn’t have to keep looking at that smile.

Erend cleared his throat. “A summons. He wants you present for a meeting he’s arranged. Every envoy has been ordered to attend and he wants his full council there – minus Uthid, obviously.”

She was still on the council? She supposed that was a good sign. It didn’t help the low swoop of her stomach at the thought of seeing Avad again for the first time since her outburst in a council setting, but she’d take what she could get. Hopefully she’d catch him before this meeting.

“When does it start?”

“Ten minutes,” Erend answered, standing and heading for the door. “I am to be your escort.”

“Now?” Aloy sputtered as she followed. She thought maybe she had a day, at least a few hours.

The cub waddled beside her, matching her long strides with far more ease than a week ago. Erend walked ahead of her with purpose, his hammer missing from his back, his uniform straighter and clean of ale and oil spills. He wanted to look good for the envoys, and Aloy couldn’t blame him. One at a time was manageable, two insisting on being present just so they could gang up on Avad was annoying. But all of them together? Aloy couldn’t imagine a worse kind of hell for Avad.

They moved down the eastern hallway, the sun slowly disappearing from the slatted windows as it made its journey across the sky. Aloy guessed it to be an hour before noon. When they reached the council staircase Aloy moved to climb it. Erend strode right past it, heading for where the east and west corridors met in the entrance chambers. The guard walking with them waited for Aloy to come down and follow on her own, respectful enough to not yank her along like a common prisoner.

“All the envoy’s, Aloy!” Erend called back down the hallway.

She jogged to catch up, the cub guffing at her heels, her mind racing to fill in the blanks. Where else did Avad hold his meetings? She wasn’t around Meridian much as it was, and every time her presence had been requested, it had been in his council chambers. Though she supposed this wasn’t a council meeting, officially.

They reached the balcony overlooking the foyer, where Sylens and his men had bent the knee before Avad two days previous. Erend spun on his heel with the military precision his years in Meridian had slowly bled into him, swivelling to the huge set of doors centred between the staircases. Aloy regarded the huge double doors, intricate carvings of a rising sun above the canyons of old Meridian worked into the deep coloured wood. She’d never been through those doors before, and had no idea what was on the other side. They swung inwards, opening with a great groan, and as Erend walked in, Avad walked out, stopping in the yawning doorway to greet his friend, freezing when he saw his next guest was the suddenly stricken Nora.

Her moment of panic lasted a heartbeat, the same fervour that drove her through her machine hunting, her bandit stalking and all that steered her through the wars she’d fought, pushed her to take the five steps it would take to cross the room and stand before Avad. His back was to the room, spine straight, watching her approach like she was a Stalker in camouflage and he couldn’t tell if she was about to pounce.

“Avad-” She had so little time and too many things to say. The sound of his noble envoy’s voices drifted impatiently from inside the grand room. He opened his mouth to speak. “No, I have too much to say to you without much time. Please?” He closed his mouth and nodded, ready to listen despite the last time she’d spoken to him and her guilt flared at his simple kindness. “I... I’ve been talking to people who can’t talk back for too long.” His brow furrowed as he looked down at her, but he didn’t interrupt as she tried to sort out her thoughts. “These past six years I haven’t really been anywhere. I’ve travelled to a lot of different places, almost all of which knew my name, knew who I was, where I was coming from. But I haven’t _been_. I hadn’t stayed there, gotten to know the people, made friends or even made a place for myself, and, without realising it, I became a ghost.

I let people talk through me on my travels, reciting everything they’d heard about the Anointed while I nodded and thought about which machine I was going to hunt or tame, but everything ended the same way. I would leave because I wanted to. I would do only what I wanted. And what I wanted two days ago was to figure out where the cub came from, and had been rebuffed three times on that quest. I was desperate to know, for reasons I haven’t completely shared with you, and I don’t even fully understand all of them... I had to get those answers. But they were answers that could of waited.”

Her words spent, she looked up at him, desperate for him to understand. “It’s time I started talking to the living again, but, more importantly, I need to begin listening. But first, I have to say that I’m sorry.”

A warm grin creased Avad’s face, reaching all the way to his eyes. He put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing affectionately. “Aloy.” He said her name with such relief, almost like he feared he’d done something wrong, when nothing could be more untrue. “There were some things you said that I needed to hear-”

“And a lot that you didn’t,” she said, then realized with a flush that she’d interrupted him.

He chuckled anyway. “True, so it was forgotten immediately.” He leaned closer, conspiratorially. “I know you, better than you would probably like to think. I know you are more than your outbursts. Passion runs through you, but so does compassion, and imbalance exists just as much as balance, in that funny way that keeps the world in order. Light and Dark. Sun and Shadow.”

“A derangement,” Aloy joked, and he grinned wider.

“Exactly.” He went to say something else, but something from inside of the grand room made him turn his head. “They are getting impatient. We must make haste.”

Aloy moved with him, the glide back in her step, her head held high as she strode side by side with the Sun-King through the great dark doors, a cavernous chamber opening up before her. The hall was charmingly sparse, a polished red stone floor shining from the light of the midday sun shinning through the tall windows lining the slanted junction between the wall and the roof. Tapestries, six in total, hung from stone pillars, three on each side of the room. You had to circle the entire pillar to see the full depiction and as Avad and Aloy passed one, she saw herself holding her bow above her head on the cliff top, Varl and Erend beside her, and with a recognition so sudden it stopped her in her tracks, Aloy realised she was looking upon what Avad had seen upon her victory over Hades.

Avad continued through the room, leaving her to study the beautiful needle work of the tapestry. He reached a wide set of stairs and began to climb, his ascension to the simple stone chair at the top hushing the whispering nobles that filled the room. The stair case was barely fifteen feet tall and could easily fit a hundred men. It was uncomplicated and accessible, a total opposite to the sheer balcony at Sunfall from which Bahavis had looked down on the people, and completely Avad.

Beside the throne were a set of smaller, but no less detailed, wooden chairs, carved to fit each council member individually, detailed to support Vanasha’s slender body, or fashioned to hold Erend’s bulkier frame. Blameless Marad was perched closest to the throne on Avad’s right, and the chair to Vanasha’s left was empty, the scratches across the seat scored from Uthid’s armour. At Avad’s left was Nasadi, chosen to sit the council due to her experience as Jiran’s bride so many years ago. Aloy knew she saw through the eyes of a woman who’d watched her husband almost destroy the world and his son build it back up. Her insight was clear. If there was a woman who could keep Avad from becoming his father, it was Nasadi. But the chair on her left was empty and Itamen was not at her side. He was being escorted by a tall woman in blue robes. Every now and then she would lean down and whisper to the young boy, and he would whisper back in lieu of an answer that she would scribe onto a parchment clipped to a stone slab, a preparation of sorts by Avad, letting his little brother shadow his meetings before he ascended to the council.

Each council member shifted in their ornate chairs, the wood polished and unworn, and Aloy realised she’d never been in Avad’s throne room before.

Her eyes scanned the crowd, picking out the noble who’s meeting she’d crashed. He felt her eyes and turned, face reddening when he recognised her, turning to face the front with a stern determination to not look at her again. She suppressed her smirk deciding it wasn’t very political. But then her eyes caught a smooth, hairless brown head, flanked on either side by a few Shadow Carja, surrounded by some of Avad’s guard and Erend’s vanguard. Aloy pushed her way through the crowd towards the group, the tottering cub making the nervous Carja’s give her a wide berth. If Sylens felt her eyes on him, he had more tact than the nobleman, staring straight ahead.

“What are you doing here?” She whispered, stopping at his side and adopting his position, watching Avad greet each of his council members. The cub, sensing a stop, plopped his furry bottom onto the floor, panting in the heat.

“You tell me,” Sylens answered, finally offering her a glance, then one to the cub, but refrained from reaching over to touch it. “Your king had the Oseram haul us from our cells and marched us here.”

“You were in holding chambers so don’t go acting like a victim. It doesn’t become you.”

“But my people are still down in those cells. Where are their rights? I am your friend-” at the look she shot him he cleared his throat. “We knew each other, in lives past, battles fought. That creates a bond, Aloy. Don’t go forgetting that so easily because I haven’t.”

She hated him almost as much as she hated that he was right. “What was your point?”

“My point is that we came here seeking redemption, and instead received condemnation.”

“Can you blame them for being cautious?”

“No...” He sighed sufferingly in a very un-Sylens kind of way. “I guess it was I who expected too much of the new Sun-King.”

She was about to tell him to shut up or go wine in a real dungeon cell, but then Avad turned to face his noblemen. Something was missing from his eyes, the warmth gone, replaced with something that unsettled Aloy with how unlike the usual Sun-King it was. He held himself taller, hands clenched into fists at his sides, his authority twisting her with how like Helis he seemed, before she blinked and it was her friend looking upon his subjects once again.

“Noblemen of the Sundom,” Avad addressed, pulling on a smile, his eyes still severe. “I am glad all my envoys could attend me today. Truly I am blessed by the sun to be in the company of a Carja ambassador from every one of our great cities.”

A murmur went through the crowd. A group of Envoys dressed in light summer linens of pale reds and oranges, half of their chests bare, thick bearded and hair loose and flowing, nudged each other, smiling even brighter when Vanasha sent them a wink. Aloy guessed they were the men of the South West, the fishermen Vanasha had told her about who held the coasts and the reputation for the friendliest of the Carja nations.

Unfortunately a man with a severe expression deep set in a wrinkled face spoke up. “Not every ambassador, _Your Radiance._ ” He said the words with a mocking smile. “I believe Sunfall rejected all your requests at parlay.”

Avad glanced at the man, then gestured to where Sylens and his band of Shadow Carja were standing. “I did not need to. These men of Sunfall came of their own volition to join in my cause, and I hope for you to learn by their example.”

The Carja nobles face reddened. “I am a Lord of the Sundom and will not be spoken to like that.”

“Then you might show a Lord’s courtesy and not interrupt your king,” Avad answered smoothly, and the noble’s coloured cheeks deepened to a dark purple.

Beside her, Sylens shifted, murmuring under his breath. “Not entirely accurate, but it appears I am no longer a prisoner.”

“You were better off,” Aloy muttered, glaring at a group of whispering nobles.

“We have remained divided for too long,” Avad began, voice clear across the long chamber. “Shadow Carja. Carja in Light. Southern, Eastern. In light or on dark, we are all Carja. I have been treating you all one by one, and as such I have only served to alienate you from each other. That was my mistake. As your King, I will be better. Starting now.”

Anticipating the confusion, Avad let his countrymen murmur amongst themselves. Aloy felt different vibes across the room, ranging from curiosity to discontent. Even Vanasha and Erend looked confused at Avad’s side, sharing looks, head shakes and shrugs.

“I have listened to all your qualms and concerns on how my Sundom should be ruled and I have come to a decision. From this day on all slavery is abolished.” He held up his hands at the first outcry. “From this day on, all tribes are equal in the eye of the Sun, and woman can apply for any role in society they wish, should they hold the qualification.”

“You want women to work our forges? Fight in our armies?” One nobleman’s escort roared. Beside Avad, Vanasha sat up straighter, her face a mask of shocked dismay.

“From this day on,” Avad pressed on. “All Sun-Pits across the Sundom will be shut down, effective immediately. Any Pit that is caught open, the managers will be executed without trial, and the combatants will be drafted to the army.”

And then the throne room exploded, erupting into shouts and yells. The nobleman that Aloy had glared at ignored her, words bursting across the room. The relaxed looking Southern Carja’s were roaring in favour of Avad’s proclamations, pushing against any who disagreed, while a group from the east shoved their way towards the throne, a throng of Guards keeping them back at spear point.

Behind Avad, Vanasha stood, but seemed frozen, unsure for the first time since Aloy had met her. Nasadi’s face had gone white, her dark eyes wide and stricken, staring at Avad like a woman haunted and he was her tormentor.  

Atop the madness, on his throne, Avad regarded the chaos. “I have already dispatched soldiers to your cities. They are the Sundom’s Red Guard, and any Carja citizen caught breaking the reforms will be taken. I am your Sun-King, and I have spoken.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a little more for you on Nil (Officially *wink* *wink*). Damn things are heating up in Meridian. Avad's getting a little ovveruley... like father like son? Let me know what you guys think in the comments!
> 
> And if you love my work, check out the link below to show your Love and Support!
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> [](https://ko-fi.com/A17123XG)  
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> Ko-fi.com/ruerue


	9. Sylens

“Your King continues to surprise me,” Sylens murmured, leaned over a stack of papers, his ankle chains clinking as he shifted, the manacles on his wrists echoing the sound when he flipped the page. “I mean, he’s bold, I’ll give him that. Outlawing everything the Carja hold sacred, and all at once. In Sunfall there’d have been a revolt on the spot.”

Aloy pretended not to hear him, a slight that made him growl under his breath. While he sought solitude throughout his life for his studies, being ignored wasn’t something he easily accepted. He was here after all, offering his time to her. He could have stayed in Sunfall, or travelled even further to the east, to his caves, to his haven. Only Ilsa knew the location. Faced with Aloy’s cold shoulder, he found, for the first time in his life, that he was missing someone, thinking of the Shadow Carja woman who’d emerged a year ago.

She had come, silk dress split and tied around her legs like trousers for practicality as she climbed the coiling, twisting legs of his Metal Devil, shoulders bared to the heat, a wrap covering her breasts and chest. She’d cared so little for the way Carja woman tried to look so effortlessly put together, like they wanted the moronic slobs of Meridian to believe they rolled out of bed with their eyes painted in coals, reds, pinks and purples. She’d been naked of paints, stained by dust, splashed golden by the sun and sheened with sweat with hands cracked and calloused from a journey she glibly described as ‘mostly uphill’.

She was resistant when he told her to leave, intolerable when he threatened her, infuriatingly stubborn, strong willed, obtuse, and as un-empathetic as himself when he voiced his displeasure at being disturbed.

And she’d called the Metal Devil by its name. It’s _real_ name.

_FAS-BOR7 Horus – Faro Combat Class._

He’d never heard those words spoken so softly before, or heard them sound so true.

“Sylens.” Aloy’s sharp, suffering tone snapped him out of his reverie. “Pass me those papers.”

“Did your Nora foster never teach you manners?” He muttered. She glared at him, her first acknowledgement of his presence since her invasive vetting of his last six years, snatching the papers from his fingers. He flinched back as one page sliced his fingertip. Clearly she was still a little sore over his admission.

“If you go back far enough I’m sure you’ll find out.”

Suspicion confirmed.

Unfortunately her frostiness had not abated since Avad had cleared him from his cell of a room, shackled his wrists and ankles and marched him down to this room. It was bigger than the one he’d been locked in for over five days, though not by much. It had no windows, but a breeze sometimes washed down the chimney, ruffling the papers from the bare fireplace. Along with the Carja standing beside the table, he knew another Carja guard waited on the other side of the closed door, along with his new Oseram friend who hadn’t stopped looking over his shoulder since he got to Meridian.

Avad had consented for Sylens to divulge all he’d learned over the past six years to Aloy, a decision that had only taken him over a week to decide. Sylens could keep no secrets, had to answer all her questions, and if she suspected he was lying, Derric had been ordered to forget all he might see, or enter the room at Aloy’s request should she need more hands. Naturally she spent the first day and a half figuring out all he had learned on her, how much he had spied. To his credit, he answered every question truthfully, because he hated having his time wasted, but, and he wasn’t so proud to admit it, because she deserved the truth.

“It took me a while,” he’d begun the meeting. “But soon I was able to discern certain words that meant it was time for me to shut my focus down.”

“What words?” She was trying so hard to keep her temper. He glanced at the Carja guard, standing beside the door, watching them. Watching Aloy.

He looked back to the woman. “May I?” It took her a moment before she understood that he was asking for her permission. She didn’t let anything show, but she nodded. “Rost. That was the first. After the second time you took your Focus off after speaking that word, I got the message. I’m sorry to say I wasn’t as quick with Elisabet. Any time you mentioned her I couldn’t let myself not listen, thinking you might of discovered something new. Then you began taking your Focus off, so I connected the dots on those more, uh, personal conversations.”

“How kind of you,” Aloy spat, but it was more her usual sarcasm than actual malice. He supposed progress could be a subjective.

“The last word makes little sense to me. Nil?”

She tensed so suddenly he thought she had snapped into two pieces. She forced herself to relax just as quickly. “It means nothing.”

“Literally,” Sylens commented, hoping to get her to show something, anything, but she remained stonier than he’d ever seen her. “That is all. Anything else that caught my interest I watched, or found later on.” He leaned forward. “I feel I must be clear. I didn’t go looking for moments, or have times of day saved to go over your events of the day. I turned on the Network when I thought about GAIA or Elisabet, or HADES mentioned something interesting to me. It was never about you, Aloy.”

She watched him, hazel eyes not cold, but clinical, studying him with a practised objectivity to her involvement in this situation that almost made him proud. He liked to think he’d taught her to be impartial during the course of their journey, but he knew she’d spent every year of her life before he’d met her being nothing, not mattering in arguments, being left out of decisions that could mean her life or death. Detachment had been a staple in the life of the Nora who’s entire existence wasn’t trusted.

At last she gave a begrudging, “Fine,” then launched into all he’d been doing for the last six years, what Hade’s had told him (they’d only been able to touch on that, the expanse of Hades knowledge overwhelming Aloy’s expectations), lastly touching on his connection to the Shadow Carja.

He wasn’t sure why he kept as much of Ilsa to himself as possible, simply telling Aloy that they had approached him, first one by one, then in groups, seeking out the man who had built them a second sight like a kind of messiah, asking him to lead them further. Instead he lead them backwards. He took them home before too many could find his caves, back to Sunfall. He couldn’t give them more food, more water, more leaders. He didn’t have those powers, no matter what they thought, for he was no god and no King. He was a scholar, and possessed powers they had rightly never seen.

He gave them order where there had been none, deadlines to motivate them, tasks and objectives to distract them, and soon homes were built (shabby, for he was no architect), crops planted where possible for the land was mostly barren and hard. A water system had been set up, wells pocketing the ground like Rockbreaker tunnels. They produced minimally, often un-hygienically, but it was a new constant in a world that lived upon who could take it first and hold it, the strong beating the food and water from the fingers of the weak.

“An established system keeps the peace,” Sylens explained. “It’s fragile at best, but it’s better than when you last visited.”

“That’s putting it kindly,” Aloy said, her fingers grazing the faded scar on her neck that Helis had left her.

“I was there, Aloy. I was aiming for subtle,” he said.

She hadn’t responded, and remained silent there on out. In exchange for his services, Sylens had bargained to be given access to Aloy’s studies on the bear cub. She resentfully acknowledged that he could offer something to her cause and they’d been studying in silence for the last two hours. The cub wasn’t present, however. Aloy had refused him of that. He’d first called it spite, then realised another reason. She didn’t want the cub near anything she perceived as a threat, and without her knowledge, he’d scribbled his own notes.

_As a cub of single birth, unlike a pack or heard animal like a Strider or Charger, this animal requires nurture from a single figure. It’s methods, though crude, seem effective in eliciting paternal/maternal feelings – even from the most stubborn of fosters._

He doubted Aloy would consider those notes useful, so he tucked them away. 

“Is this really all you managed to gather?” Sylens asked, looking over her eleven pages of compiled notes, some quite incisive, others completely useless.

“Sorry I’m just a Nora savage,” she muttered, though it didn’t have much to do with what he asked.

“I asked if this was all you had, not your upbringing.”

“And I thought you were smarter than that,” she snapped with more heat. When she looked at him, his unimpressed scowl must of spoken loudly, because she sighed. “The Leaves didn’t grant much. They talked about the people, not the animals, and that was pretty sparse as well.”

“Then stop looking in other directions,” Sylens said, leaning back in his chair, dismissing her papers. She was right, they’d be useless.

“What?” Aloy asked.

“Strip it down. Stop giving other things meaning that might not be there,” he explained. “How did you find this animal?”

Her brow furrowed, and for a moment he thought she was going to argue with him. She must of figured the fight useless however, for she matched his posture, leaning back into her seat, eyes skyward as she took herself back to that day. “I didn’t. He found me.”

“Where?” She bristled at the question, a much more severe reaction than he was anticipating. “Aloy?”

She shook it off. “You weren’t watching?”

He shrugged. “I couldn’t pinpoint or see the location. I was mostly focused on the cub anyway.”

She scowled, but it must of sufficed. “I was west of the pass into Nora lands, a little north.”

“So... not Meridian, basically,” Sylens said. Aloy only offered him a nod. He sighed, keeping any comments to himself. “All right. Do you remember how it came to you?”

“It... just appeared,” she said, struggling for the words. “Out of water. It must of gone swimming in the pond.” She stiffened, like he would be able to discern where she’d found it based on a common water structure.

“Hmm... It doesn’t quite help us,” he sighed to himself. She looked ready to defend herself, snap that this had been his idea, so he carried on before she could lay into him. “It came from nothing... Nothing before it... No warning or predecessor....No...”

Aloy’s head lifted suddenly, something in her eyes Sylens couldn’t read. “No mother.”

He’d never have seen it. He’d had a mother, a legitimate birth, never having to guess his origin, fight, scratch or claw his way into discovering who he was or what made him. He never thought to where the cub came from, the answer was too obvious for him.

But not for Aloy.

“A Cauldron,” Sylens said, voice washed with awe. Aloy glanced at the floor, looking for the cub that wasn’t there. “It came from a Cauldron. Created, incubated and born.”

“Don’t make it out to be so clinical,” Aloy said harshly, glaring at him. That had been her making, he remembered, of course him speaking so robotically of it would make her agitated.

“But think about it, Aloy. Focus your objectivity,” Sylens said, standing suddenly. Pacing always helped him, but with shackled ankles he could do no more than shuffle awkwardly. He couldn’t cross or swing his arms either. “You were created by GAIA, grown in your Mother’s Mountain by her, processed by the Machines and nurtured until it was time for your birth.”

“I remember,” she said tensely. She didn’t, she remembered discovering it, or else Sylens would have so many more questions.

“ _Think_ , Aloy,” he insisted, and her scowl deepened at the insinuation that she hadn’t been up to this point. He was so fevered by now that he couldn’t find it in himself to care that she was insulted. “You were born from a Cauldron by a program, so that must mean this cub was made the same way.”

“GAIA’S sub-functions,” Aloy said, watching him pace. “HADES shattered the chains when he became sentient. GAIA said that the others were the same, but they scattered.” She went quiet for a moment, her eyes loosing focus for a moment. “Another HADES.”

“Another AI,” Sylens corrected. He came to stand before her, not letting her look anywhere else but him. “HADES was built to destroy. I know he caused a lot of pain, to you, to a lot of people. I’ve already told you that I regret parts of my involvement.”

“You also said it wasn’t an admission of guilt,” Aloy reminded him.

He nodded, not wasting words on facts already known. “But HADES, no matter what he did, was following his programming. He was an AI who felt his programming was his purpose. It would be like holding it against a Watcher for alerting a heard to your presence.” He could see she wanted to argue, but she respected logic too much to do it. “But this sub-function creates, Aloy. Can you imagine it?”

Behind her troubled look, hazel eyes sparkled. She could, and now she wanted to do so much more than envision them. She wanted to see them just as badly as he did.

“There could be more,” she murmured, her thoughts slipping past. “More cubs.”

“Think bigger,” Sylens urged, kneeling beside her chair. “More than bears, more than geese or boars. Think animals mentioned in the holograms and audio-logs. Horses. Dogs. Cats. Lions. Eagles. There is so much more that could come from this, and if we find the sub-function for animals, we could find all the rest and all they hold.”

“Apollo,” Aloy breathed. “You think something could have survived?”

He knew this feeling, this excited tightening in his chest. He’d felt it when Aloy had started to become useful to him six years ago, and he felt it when Ilsa suggested coming to Meridian would be his best option to discover more truths. He could never understand why the Carja thought women less, dumber and weaker. Aloy was the strongest person he’d ever met, and Ilsa was more than he ever thought capable for the human will and mind.

Judging by the excited glint in Aloy’s eyes, she was feeling exactly the same as him, and was itching to find a way to go further. He expected more ruins in their future, more places for Aloy to delve into. He wouldn’t get in her way, but he’d be waiting for her when she came out.

“I’ve mapped a few ruins but I never went deep,” Aloy was saying. “Further north, closer to Banuk territory. It’s uncharted except for the Banuk, but I have a friend who might guide us.”

“Anywhere closer?” At her confused look, Sylens dived into the stack of papers, pulling out a map. He laid it flat on the table and to Meridian with one finger, another landing on the entrance to the Nora pass. “You say the cub appeared somewhere between these two points. The Banuk territory is too far for it to be related to the bear.” Though they would be exploring those Banuk ruins as well, most likely.

Aloy motioned for him to stay still, standing and grabbing a charcoal pencil. She circled the radius of his fingers, marking out the possible area they would need to search. “I haven’t found any new Cauldrons in these areas.”

“What about ruins?” Sylens asked.

She shook her head, nose scrunching up in irritation, eyebrows pulling together as she thought. “Nothing I haven’t already searched.”

“There can’t be nothing!” Aloy’s eyes widened at the outburst, so Sylens forced himself to be calm. “There must be something. So far from the closest Cauldron? Your cub couldn’t of gone so far on its own.”

Aloy stood, coming to stand beside him, leaning her hands on the table either side of the map. For a long while she stared, her eyes unmoving, unfocused. She was lost as she thought, not seeing, barely blinking. It was almost frightening, Sylens nerves going jittery. Then her hand raised and her finger stabbed down at the map, far to the north, far to the  east.

“Sunfall?” Sylens spluttered. “There is no Cauldron in Sunfall.”

“Zero Dawn is,” Aloy said, her voice intense with the calm of a decision made. “The holograms and Primes told us about the programs. We go to Sunfall and we find out everything we can on the sub-functions.”

“Like Cauldron locations.”

“I think it would be more like a Cradle, like....” _Like what I came from,_ she didn’t say, but he heard. “But, yes, you’re right. There will be location logs, and this time I’ll have more time to find them.”

She shot him a questioning look that would of been accusing if he hadn’t known her. “No Eclipse will interrupt us this time.”

“Us?” her incredulousness stung, not from her lack of belief in him, but the fact she actually thought he would miss this opportunity.

“My Shadow Carja will be at your disposal, as will I.”

Her hardened eyes softened into an unsure expression, searching his for any sign of a lie. He may not be telling her the entire truth, but enough of it would keep her happy for now. Ilsa will want to be informed whenever it will be that he returns to Sunfall, she may even be able to offer some insight. Preparations would have to be made, he’d have to send word out to his people to give Aloy passage into Sunfall.

“Sylens.” Aloy’s voice broke him out of his planning. He looked at her, and something he’d never seen before flittered across her face, cheeks a little flushed, eyes shifting away from his, then darting back. Shame was not a good look for Aloy, nor was the human response in himself to cut off her apology to save herself the embarrassment. But the part of himself he did recognise was enjoying the vindication a little, so he said nothing. “I... I’m sor-”

The earth jumped beneath their feet. Atop the desk the charcoal pencil skittered. Sylens grabbed for it with both hands, turning to Aloy. “Did you feel that?”

Her answer was lost in the exploding boom across the palace, the shaking aftermath throwing him out of his chair. He couldn’t catch himself and his shoulder jarred as he hit the quaking floor. Aloy held her footing, barely hesitating before dashing from the room. She didn’t have her bow or lance with her, why would she need them for studying notes? But Sylens knew she was running headlong into whatever had caused that terrible blast without them, so he struggled to his feet and shuffled after her as fast as his chains would allow.

Outside of the room was chaos. Guards screaming at each other as they charged past him, the earth alive beneath their feet, servants running in the opposite direction, getting in the way, being shoved to the side. He managed to catch a young woman before she was toppled by a Meridian Palace guard as he dashed for one of the west towers. As Sylens steadied her he caught a flash of ember hair disappearing around the corner. He let go of the serving girl and gave an awkward chase, hands on the wall to steady himself. The trembling earth wasn’t helping his shackled ankles, his feet tripping on each other, but he made it to the hallway Aloy had run down. He could see her at the far end, between some sort of cross section in the hallway. The dark-skinned council woman was there, and by her frantic gestures Sylens could see that whatever happened was bad. Very bad.

“It came from the tower!” A Guard yelled as he pushed past Sylens, running in what he assumed was the direction of said tower.

He shuffled along, dust and debris a thick smoke, hanging in the air, blocking out the light trying to stream through the slatted windows. It had been morning when he and Aloy began their work, but this veil of destroyed rock and stone had the afternoon sun as black as night. Something fell beside the window, a deafening crunch sounding below.

“-bs with Erend! He left him with Marad while he collected his Vanguard,” the woman was yelling over the grinding stone, and for a moment relief flashed across Aloy’s face. “The tower’s collapsing! Avad is up there!”

Just as Sylens was about to ask what tower, Aloy was gone, slipping out of the woman’s grip and running up the spiral staircase. Sylens shoved his way after her, looking over his shoulder. The woman gawked at him, suddenly frozen, unsure where she would be helpful. “The Guards need direction!” She was stunned he was giving her orders, but he didn’t have time for this. “Your King gave women order, so step up and order! Send a squad here, divert the others into evacuating this palace, but send that oaf’s Oseram’s here, we’re going to need some muscle!”

His years commanding the Shadow Carja taught him what authority sounded like. The woman needed that now, and she nodded, hesitating, looking like she may ignore him and chase after Aloy, then turned and ran the other way.

The tower was a mess. The impact of the explosion had shattered the upper steps. A chunk the size of a Snapmaw’s mouth was missing. He barely made the jump, bunching his legs under himself, springing with all the strength he had, and almost fell backwards. Stone groaned around him, crumbling around him. Shafts of light appeared above as the tiles shattered and fell. Chips and smoke blinded him, tried to choke him, but he pressed on. How tall was this stupid tower?

Why was he doing this? Aloy rushed head first into the danger, not him. He should switch on his focus and guide her, but it had been taken away, though it wouldn’t have helped now, she’d left hers back in their study chamber. They were running blind into a Thunderjaw’s nest with no bow or spear, no plan or escape route. This was the opposite of logic, and still he pushed on, bursting into the tower, or what was left of it.

The western side was gone, open air gaping before them, Aloy frozen in the middle of the room. The carved wooden table was obliterated, a jagged half smouldering on its side across the entrance way. Sylens struggled over it, hobbling to where Aloy was standing.

Avad was nowhere to be seen.

“We must move, Aloy,” Sylens gasped, his throat raw from the dust. She didn’t, eyes squinted like she was trying to see without her Focus. “He’s gone! The Tower is going to collapse!”

It gave a mighty shift, and Sylens felt the earth tilt beneath his feet. Aloy planted her stance but he could not in his chains. He toppled, hands flying up as Aloy cried out in alarm. The front of her jerkin cut into his throat but he still fell, Aloy screaming as she tried to hold on. And then he stopped suddenly, hanging over the edge of the destroyed room. He looked back as far as he could, the cloth digging into his throat.

Aloy’s arm was hooked into a splitting beam of wood, as was her leg. Her fingers shook from the strain of her grip on him, but she would not let go. “I need to reach my grappling hook!” she yelled down to him. “Try not to move!”

Her advice was sound, and he froze, dangling by the strength of her grip. Below him the world dropped, hundreds of feet separating him and the rocky floor of Meridian below. If he squinted he could see the people filing out of the Palace. A chunk of rock broke loose from the tower, plummeting towards the people below, and Sylens cried out on reflex, knowing they couldn’t hear his shouts to move.

And then something shifted, just below him, maybe twenty feet. He just caught the movement, and only because he was dangling for his life, hyperaware of any jolt Aloy made as she struggled for her hook. He focused, eyes narrowing.

There. On a fallen beam below, something was there, Carja robes covered in dust, the ornate helm shattered.

“I see him!” Sylens roared above the noise. “Aloy, Avad is down there!”

He jolted suddenly, suppressing a scream at the jerky movement. “I can’t see him!” Aloy cried, her voice desperate.

“He’s below the lip of the tower! I think he’s unconscious!”

Sylens was and wasn’t thinking all at once, his mind racing so fast he couldn’t hear it. Avad was almost directly below him. The right momentum would get him onto that beam. He judged the length of his shackles, pulling his hands as wide apart as he could. A few feet, maybe two. Above him Aloy grunted, her movements frantic and uncalculated as she struggled to get her hook with barely one hand available.

“Aloy, drop me!” It was the stupidest thing he’d ever said, but it was the only way h could think of.

“What?”

“Drop me, now!”

He thought she’d argue, but then her fingers slipped from his jerkin and he plummeted down. He twisted, tucking his knees to his chest, arms held out, then shut his eyes and prayed he’d gotten this right.

His body stopped so suddenly, searing pain shooting from his shoulders he thought his arms would wrench loose completely. He opened his eyes and looked up. His chains had caught the beam, suspending him in the air, feet dangling below into the abyss. Above him, Avad was on his stomach, one arm hanging over the edge of the beam, dangling in the nothingness below. He was conscious after all, bleary eyes looking at Sylens confusedly as the tattooed man curled his knees up and swung himself onto the beam. It trembled, the end lodged under the broken tower giving way, small stones tumbling down.

Sylens lay on his stomach, crawling along the beam slowly. He remembered being trapped on ice as a child, sliding his way across, distributing his weight so as not to crack the ice. He’d still fallen in, but hoped that lesson would not repeat itself now as he reached Avad, gripping the remains of his robes.

He looked up, but couldn’t see Aloy anymore, the edge of the broken tower jutting too far out. He focused on Avad, getting his arms over his shoulders, then his legs in a hold that draped the Sun-King across his back, using his shackles to keep his wrists and ankles closed across his chest so he wouldn’t fall.

The beam shook, Sylens’ weight adding too much stress. His feet stumbled under him, and if he fell now he would be very annoyed that his bravery, so close to stupidity it was practically the same thing, would go unrewarded.

And then a hook dropped, too far for him to reach, swaying in the tremulous air. “Grab it!” Aloy yelled. Above, Sylens could hear more voices. The Oseram and his Vanguard had arrived, their stomping feet causing more rocks to wedge loose and fall.

Securing Avad on his shoulders, Sylens unwrapped his chains, holding them out again. He bunched his legs under him, like in the tower, though this gap looked larger than the one in the steps. The beam shook under his feet. He bunched tighter, but before he could surge forwards the wood bucked, throwing him up into the air, his head toppling to where his feet had been, his world going upside down. Avad slipped from his shoulders and Sylens just had the mind to catch him before he fell to the rocks below, before realising they were both going to die anyway.

Then his world stopped, his ankle made a crack that could rival a hammer splitting stone, and Avad fell into the chains between his wrists. The Sun-King gasped in barely conscious pain. Sylens screamed in agony with every jolt upwards. He grit his teeth, hauling Avad’s dead weight towards him with all his strength, getting him into his arms and holding on like his life depended on it.

“You will not die now!” he seethed, though he doubted anyone could hear him. “Not after I did all this! You. Will. Not. Die!”

A meaty hand grasped his crushed ankle. He screamed as he was hauled back onto solid(ish) ground, gasping in pain, shaking from the force of it. He was immediately ignored as Erend and Aloy pried Avad from his hands. He hadn’t realised he’d been holding on so tight. His hands shook. He was going into shock, he could feel it, no matter how much he told his mind to get a grip.

Avad was taken by his Oseram, lifted carefully and carried from the room, back down the steps. Erend followed them, shouting orders for a litter to be made ready and the surgeons to be fetched. Sylens tried to stand but his legs wouldn’t obey him and his ankle screamed every time he tried.

A hand appeared before him, fingers calloused from years honing her bow. Aloy. When he didn’t immediately take her hand, too stunned and falling rapidly into his shock, she rolled her eyes, knelt down, and hauled him to his feet, his arm over her shoulders.

“I heard you. You won’t die. Not yet.”

They struggled together down the steps, Aloy calling for help when they reached the gap. It was wider now and crumbling still, and two Oseram had to catch them when they jumped. Sylens moved through it all in a daze, letting Aloy guide him until they were outside and she was lowering him gently to the soft grass. From his peripherals he could see a crowd gathering, hear Erend shouting orders for people to back off, give the Sun-King some room to breathe, and Sylens was extremely thankful that they found him unimportant enough to leave alone.

“My people?” he gasped, throat raw.

“Evacuated,” Aloy said, her eyes widening a little at his immediate response to his own life or death experience, pointing to a little ways away. A ring of guards surrounded his Shadow Carja, all of them fighting to get a look at their leader and see if he was all right.

He sighed, feeling his heart start to slow, then hissing at the pain in his ankle and shoulders. He looked up at her. “You dropped me.”

She regarded him in turn, soot and dust covering her face, her hands raw from the rope. She shrugged. “I trusted you.”

Despite his injuries, his stupidity, his aches and sores and the realisation that he was idiotic enough to risk his life for a king who locked him away, he let himself smile. “Don’t get used to it. If I hadn’t already fallen I never would have suggested you drop me.”

She smirked in return, standing up, making a show of nonchalantly brushing the dust from her robes. “I know.” Then she walked off to see to her King.

Above them all the tower crumbled, the very top sliding free and crashing to the ground. He felt it rumble beneath him, but was too tired to care. All he could think about was how Ilsa was going to react when he told her all about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot more action in this chapter! Who would of thought, Sylens being all badass, kind of... haha, hope you guys liked this chapter!
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	10. Uthid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for the long wait. I've been busy as usual with some extra bumps along the way, but I managed to crank this out for you guys before I head out on Holiday on Monday. 
> 
> Extra note I'm writing this alongside my novel so please be patient with me, and if anyone wants to check out some original writing, hit me up.

The paved streets of Sunfall may have looked new, but Uthid still remembered the squalor he had left behind six years ago. The hunger, the homelessness, the violence of the stronger street gangs, the elderly cowering, some of them veterans Uthid remembered serving with. He tried to give his shards away sparingly - Avad's shads he should say, feeling guilty every time he took from the dowry the Sun-King had gifted, to be used to be used for their room and board in Sunfall. But the elderly were too weak to fend for themselves and the children were so many and hungry. He remembered having to delegate rations as a commander, but he didn't remember it being this difficult. Soldiers all got the same. Able bodied men who could hunt for extra if needed. Uthid had no experience with those who could not fend for themselves beyond fighting their wars for them then moving on.

Under all the shop keepers shouts and the guards patrolling the orphaned children still ran and the poor still moaned. Putting a shiny new coat on it wouldn't make it go away.

His shards pouch was light today as he moved through the markets in an fort to keep him from spending too many of them, having to decide if a set of Scrapper steel cuffs, some silks, or a child getting to fill his belly with something, was more important. He usually chose the latter, being raised a frugal man, then having to learn what true discipline meant after joining the army. He often times feared being in Avad's palace might spoil him if he let himself lax, which was why he enjoyed it when he was assigned to any work outside the city, to remind him of what he came from.

His work out in Sunfall, however, was less than desired. He had another meeting with Sunfall's nobles today, the one he'd managed to somehow beg from their last meeting, and he'd ben spending the days scrambling to make his case as viable as possible. He would not fail Avad.

His walk took him to a different part of the merchants district today. Word had gotten around of his generosity to the needy. On his regular route yesterday the streets seemed doubled with the amount of children running around and beggar’s against the walls. He hated avoiding them purposefully, but he only had so much he could give before it became stealing from funds that were to keep his men comfortable.

Around him men shouted the worth’s of their steel, how it was won from the most dangerous of Thunderjaws and Behemoths. Uthid was more soldier than hunter, but even he could spot Broadhead steel when he saw it, good for its sturdy nature, not sharp. 

He grew weary of the noise, seeking quiet, so turned down another street, onto a jeweller’s lane. The only homeless on this street were the young still bold enough to try and steel from the artisans, lazing craftily about, scoping for the most absent merchants. They had yet to feel the touch of the hidden steel beneath the merchant’s work benches. The jewellers felt no need to shout their wares. Those who found this street didn’t wander to it like Uthid had. They owned the shards to purchase the finely crafted pieces, stepping around the refuge along the way.

Uthid didn’t doubt he cut an unusual, powerful figure in his sharp metal armour amongst the delicate craftsmen. He walked as he’d been taught, straight back, arms by his sides. His eyes probably moved too much, but that was habit, always watching. It was why he chose to stop at a bracelet stand at the end of the street, the rocky mountain range cutting it sharply, the merchant stand sitting comfortably in the shade. He counted five heartbeats.

“You can stop skulking now.”

Another five heartbeats, though Uthid knew he was close and simply waiting to not seem so, before Shadow appeared beside him.

“You’re good,” the youth muttered as he pretended to survey the bracelet makers wears.

“You are as well,” Uthid acknowledged, only a little begrudgingly.

“When did I give myself away?”

“Every time I stop to give away shards to the children and elderly,” Uthid said without hesitation. “You never seem to expect it. You trip on your feet, disrupt your walk, stumbling back to make sure I don’t see you. You expect the prey to run, not stop.”

Shadow grunted, shooting Uthid a sidelong look. “Carja nobles don’t give away shards. You obviously have more than you can get rid of, though.”

“Don’t take it too hard. I can tell you’re a skilled hunter. I couldn’t hear a step, and only saw you when you stumbled.” Uthid said, ignoring Shadow’s subtle accusation. He knew what and where he came from. Those who had to prove their hardships let them define oneself.

“And who are you to judge my skill?” Shadow muttered edgily, voice tight.

Uthid noted the snark but let it slide. “Just a seasoned soldier, lad.”

“Well you’re no Sunspear so kindly keep your comments to yourself.” Shadow was barely containing himself, all his patience used in his stalking of Uthid. Now that he had him, the bonds had grown loose, and Uthid knew he had to tread lightly if he wanted to find out what had disturbed the youth.

“You seem to admire the Sunspear,” Uthid broached gently, turning to face the man.

“Don’t coddle me,” Shadow all but snapped. Up close his eyes darted with barely contained  fervour, a primal glint of a prey being stalked in his silver eyes under a new mask – Charger horns forged to bend to the curve of his cheekbones while plates of dark blue and purple metal covered the majority of his face. Black silks went down to his knees and met a pair of high boots in the middle, a loose and ruffled white shirt covering his upper torso, split deeply at the neck. Apparently he liked to hide his scar in public, but everything looked like he’d thrown it on in a hurry, his hair mussed and messy. He looked as far from the confident, shrewd man that Uthid had met less than a week ago as possible.

Uthid smiled at the bracelet merchant, gave her a handful of shards for a simple circlet cut with smoothed black and blue metal cut into blocks and polished until they shone like obsidian stars, a very Nora styled accessory, and moved on. Shadow hesitated, then followed Uthid as he walked further into the shadow of the rock wall.

“What’s happened?” Uthid asked when they were alone.

“Your Sun-King happened,” Shadow whispered harshly. “Does he understand what he’s done?”

“He ordered whatever it is he did, so I imagine so,” Uthid answered coolly, trying to placate the younger mans anxiety.

Shadow blinked. “You mean you don’t know?”

“I haven’t received any word from Meridian since I arrived here,” Uthid confided, then in an attempt to calm the youth, followed up with. “And I have sent none out.”

“He’s closed the pits in the Sundom. All of the pits.”

Uthid had noticed more hostility in the passing days, in the streets, amongst the policing soldiers. He wasn’t sure where it had come from and had done his best to become invisible so as not to provoke any unwanted attention. It appeared the locals were hunting for sport, picking fights because they could. Shadow’s testimony made sense for that, but his agitated attitude did not.

Uthid leaned in close. “Why has this disturbed you, son?”

“Don’t call me son,” Shadow said, glaring. Uthid knew that glare personally, his deep brow lines a testament to his familiarity. “He may think he’s doing good but he’s messed it all up.”

“Messed what up?” Uthid insisted.

But even Shadow’s fretfulness couldn’t win over his unending caution. He glanced at Uthid, then away, around them. “I can’t speak about it with you, especially not out here.” He took another quick look around. “I was close to getting somewhere. Something big was going to shift. I was finally going to move up and start gaining some ground.”

 _Move up?_ Uthid thought, but didn’t interrupt.

“But after Avad’s decrees the bosses shut down. No one’s getting past the bookies, not when the pressure’s this hot.”

“Bookies? As in gambling?” Uthid had something now, possibly something to follow up on with the nobles. He knew that most noble money didn’t come from toil and hard work, not from their bent backs anyway. He’d never doubted that men and woman bet on the fights, but now he might have something that could get those nobles to finally listen to him.

Shadow looked almost scared that he’d given this information away, despite it being only that bookies existed in Sunfall. “Nothing about this goes further than here, old man.”

“You know what happens when you try to threaten me, boy,” Uthid replied, calm and controlled.

Shadow regarded him, eyes grudging. "Believe me, old man, I know nothing I do can scare you." He almost sounded impressed.

Uthid wasn’t sure what he could say to the young man. He seemed to have calmed down, perhaps just needing a moment to yell and wave his arms. Whatever he was doing with the city nobles, whatever Avad had him working on, and whatever Avad had done in the last few days, were complicated. He would be sure to find out the extent at his meeting today, but right now it was all trivial to him, a complication he did not need.

A soldier’s life was a simple one. It was a life he missed.

He handed the bought charm to Shadow, who looked at it in confusion. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Uthid shrugged. “I ran out of shards.” He turned on his heel, making his way out of the shade of the overhanging, away from the bracelet merchants, away from the markets all together. Now he had leverage. Now he had something to use that the nobles would need of him, something to get them to listen. He would not fail his Sun-King. He would remain the faithful soldier, charging into battles, only this time he knew it was a fight he could strategise for, one he could win.

He had some Nobles to confront.

 

“Has anyone ever told you that tenacity can be tiresome?”

“Intimidating is a more flattering term, I’ve always felt,” Uthid replied to the noble across the long table, standing tall beside the chair he’d refused. He preferred to stand. A soldier on watch, holding lines with a spear held in splintered and sweating hands always stood until the weight of his enemy knocked him down. Uthid would not be knocked down.

He felt too good. His enemies, though he knew he was wroth to think that way of the Sunfall nobility yet it was the only way he knew how to think of any opponent, had no idea he held cards that could give him this hand, win the pot. He kept them close to his chest though as the meeting began with the usual stale pleasantries. The nobles filed in when they had decided they’d kept Uthid waiting long enough. Unknown to them, they were only giving him more time to plan this assault, too obsessed with their own power, perceiving this as a done deal, to take their adversary seriously. Uthid had a scar cutting along the back of his neck from not taking an enemy seriously, and it was this experience that he was sure would win him the day.

Once all seated, the nobles waited for Uthid to take his. He remained standing, so the Noble at the forefront of the gathering began the meeting. “Our terms have been decided upon. Do I have to remind you that we are not accepting negotiations?”

“You have made yourselves clear,” Uthid replied calmly.

“Indeed.” The noble produced a scroll from one sleeve, unfurling it slowly, thinking Uthid cared for theatrics. “The council representing the needs of the people of Sunfall have listed terms for the current holder of Meridian-” the miss-acknowledgement of Avad’s title did not go unnoticed by Uthid, the nobles feeding their own fires. “Should the Holder decline any of these terms, no treaty will be met.”

“The terms?” Uthid pressed.

“We will not be forced to give up our territory,” the noble read. “Sunfall is our home, a home we built from the rock and earth, and if we agree to the treaty we become a separate tribe.”

Uthid chewed over that. “I’m sure the Sun-King can provide that term.”

“We will be given a trade route directly to Sunfall for our merchants. We will be permitted to travel outside of Sunfall un-accosted to other tribes and holdings. We will be treated with the same right every tradesman is given.

“Our right to carry a weapon will not be compromised outside of our lands. When entering foreign lands we will be permitted to keep our weapons on us unless invited into an estate that personally forbids them.” When Uthid grimaced a little, the noble pointedly looked at the sword hanging from the soldier’s belt. “Are we not to be given the equality we have shown you?”

“I’m sure Avad will see that you are,” Uthid answered slowly, seeing they had a point.

“Our traditions will not be compromised,” the noble carried on. “Everything we as a separate tribe hold sacred cannot be touched. Our ceremonies, our rites of passage and our worships of the sun will remain ours and how they are carried out will remain how we see fit.”

“Would you still consider yourselves Carja?” Uthid questioned.

The noble scoffed. “Of course. We hold the name Carja in Shadow, as did our ancestors, and so will our sons and daughters after we are gone.”

“Sons and daughters who will be defying their rightful king if you insist they be named Carja who will not respect their regency,” Uthid pointed out.

The noble’s shared a dark murmur. “Each time you demand we cease our traditions because you do not believe in them you insult all that we as a people hold sacred, and yet you ask us to bend to your whims and hold your traditions.”

“We never said for you to cease,” Uthid stated, preparing to show his hand. “Only practice them in less one sided ways.”

“One sided? We all bask in the glory of the sun,” another noble argued, one obviously not holding a designation to talk.

“Oh, do your slaves, concubines and fighters profit from your winnings in the Sun Pits, also?”

The stunned silence before him was answer enough. The nobles went dead quiet, each looking to the other for the answer. Uthid wanted to smile, but kept his face neutral. “You speak of equality for yourselves. You neglect it amongst your lesser people. Where are those representing your street merchants, your soldiers or your slaves?”

“We represent them,” a noble answered firmly. “We speak with their voice.”

“A voice born from thoughts or threats?” Uthid asked, but didn’t give the nobles a chance to answer. “Avad wants equality for _all_ the Carja in Shadow, not to line the pockets of the nobility even further. He wants to close your pits and free your slaves for those who outnumber and out skill you in battle, but he wants to give you the chance to move with these changing times, not be swallowed by them. Do not throw away that kindness for more gambling dens and woman you have to pay for.”

One noble stood, faster and fiercer than Uthid was expecting, and old reflex had his hand landing on his sword hilt before he could think better of it. “And how many has he tossed out onto our streets because of his kindness?” the man seethed. “Slaves without homes curse their freedom. Fighters who will go without wages or food because he banned their right to fight.”

“Sir, I do not under-” Uthid was cut off as the man continued his tirade.

“Our own Lord in chief is parlaying with your Sun-King right now, fighting for those men and woman to have their lives back, and from our latest runner his attempts were met with imprisonment! You talk of rights and yet you are so happy for us to fall into squalor that we must make terms to leave our sacred lands and protection just to survive!”

“Lives of no pay, no respect or rights!” Uthid snapped back.

“A better one than they live now, or do you truly have enough shards to feed them all?” the noble countered. Uthid felt a chill. Was he being watched? Were these bosses that Shadow spoke of before him now? Could these nobles be so brazen as to lead their own illegal dens? “You may have the money to give away, but to some Carja in Shadow the opportunity to gamble for more shards in those dens is the only option they have, be us remiss to take it away from them.”

 _Those dens? So they deny involvement?_ The words were coming too fast, too angrily, for Uthid to judge and respond to without hesitation. He should have pressed Shadow for more information instead of rushing in blind.

“Your Lord in chief is negotiating with the Sun-King,” Uthid said, forcing his voice calm. “I thought you were not open to negotiations.”

The noble stared at him, incredulous. “By the Sun, man, have you really never engaged in politics before? Why on earth did Avad send a man like you to determine our rights?” The other men at the table mumbled in agreement.

Uthid’s cheeks flamed, from embarrassment, and from the shame of the truth behind it. Without thought he’d stepped into a manoeuvre far beyond his thinking in politics, but applying it in battle, it was the roaring of a conjoined force, the fake battle force sent in before a battalion ambush, and he’d missed it.

“And as for negotiating,” the noble carried on. “I’d say our Lord in Chief is doing much more than that for our nations. He saved your Sun-King’s life not two days past.”

Uthid’s heart stopped. “What?”

The noble blinked at the harsh tone. “His study was rigged, by our runner’s guess. Set to explode and take the Sun-King with him. If not for the efforts of the Nora Savage and our Lord in Chief, the assassins would have succeeded.”

Uthid turned, heading for the doors. “We must postpone.” He had to get word from Meridian, send Taeko, send a runner, send his whole damn squad if he had to, his plans jumbling together as he ran from the room, negotiations be dammed.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always welcome, and very much wanted. And if you love my work, check out the link below to show your Love and Support!
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	11. Avad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> I am back from my Holiday and ready to deliver. As always, your support has been manic and amazing and I love every inch of it. I have met the worlds best proof reader on here and all of you who love my work.
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> Anyway's, I hope you guys enjoy!

When Avad woke, he thought he was the sun. He burned, but not with righteous influence and he did not radiate with holy, forgiving light. He blazed with pain, harsh and hot, shooting right through his body, flaming in his upper shoulder and across his neck. His legs floated, lost in the sky with nothing solid beneath him.

He woke to red, flowing across his vision and imagined his Sundom was setting into the earth.  
  
How long did a sun stay in the sky? The radiance itself was eternal. Avad was still shy a decade into his reign, his rays weak, barely stretched beyond Meridian. The Sun Lords didn’t respect his light and beyond the Sundom the other tribes were icy to his warmth. He’d tried to let his light spread to the darkest reaches, to the people lost in shadow and those who chose to live there, to free them from the black of their existence and give them peace and warmth. But he’d failed, and now he was cursed to rise and set across his Sundom, and watch it fall with him, and he would rise upon the ashes.

“The inflammation in his upper shoulder is receding. If we continue the cold compresses and the poultice on his neck, it should continue to withdraw.” The voice drifted through his waves of heat, a calm breeze, and one he recognised from before his reign, when he lived a simple life of tutors and lessons, before he was swallowed into the sun. “The break in his girdle is still setting but it will be a few more weeks before he will be safe to move.”

“His mobility?” another voice asked shortly, female and urgent, close to Avad’s ear and irritated by the long words.

“With rehabilitation it should remain uncompromised. The Healer will give regular massages and prescribe stretches and with luck it will not become stiff.”

The female voice snorted. “I fixed a broken arm with Flame of the Evening and a frozen cask of mud from wrist to elbow.”

Instead of snorting in return, the breezy voice chuckled. “And you can still outshoot every Carja Guard in Meridian. Should we dismiss all our healers, or let you give a lecture to all sixty two of them?”

“The phrase is mud, sweat and blood for a reason, Marad.”

“Mud, sweat and tears, my dear, and it pertains to hard work, not healing.”

“Have you ever had to go through seven weeks of harsh sun and rough hunting while waiting for a burn to heal? Bellowback chemical burns, not a sunburn.”

“Is this all that you two have been doing while I’ve lain here?” Avad asked, his voice hoarse. The arm he could move clenched the sheets of his bed as he tried to sit up. Marad rushed to his side, gently moving him so that he could lean against his headboard, pressing pillows between his injured neck and shoulder and the firm, oiled wood. Behind him, Aloy watched carefully, disrobed of armour and clad in her Nora tunic and shift, feet bare. Avad’s pain addled brain wanted to comment on how small it made her look to be without some form of armour, how her flaming hair tumbled over slender shoulders. It reached the small of her back now. He wouldn’t have been able to tell if she’d worn her Nora armour with the shoulder plates she was prone to while in Meridian, a snub to the nobles who believed her still to be a savage.

Aloy came closer. “Avad?”

In a chair by the fire, her cub curled and dozed. The hour must be later than Avad had realised.

“I’m awake,” he groaned. “How long I’ve been asleep would be the better question, but I’d rather be told about my tower.” He had to gulp down the lump in his throat, walls lined like sandstone. “Was anyone hurt?”

“Some cuts and scrapes, a few burns. Nothing serious. Only two were serious, including you,” Aloy answered bluntly before Marad could finish pulling out what Avad could only guess was a detailed accident report, three pages for two people, unless. His heart thumped at the thought that the additional page could be a coroner report. “Who was the other?”

Marad and Aloy shared a look. “Sylens.”

For a moment he blinked, the name lost in his swimming head, before it came to him. “The Shadow Carja envoy?”

“Their leader,” Aloy corrected, looking as surprised as he felt as she spoke. “He told me to drop him onto the ledge so he could reach you. Without him I wouldn’t have been able to get my grapple around you without hurting you even more.”

Avad blinked a few more times, fighting to wrap his head around what Aloy was saying. “A Shadow Carja saved my life?”

Marad, looking less than pleased, lips pursed, nodded. “Indeed. He’s being cared for in a lower level of the guest solar. His ankle was hurt in your recovery.”

“By his complaining you’d think he lost his entire foot.”

Avad chuckled and the movement sent pain shooting through his shaking shoulders. Marad rushed to him with a stone cup of warm summer wine. Despite his already spinning head, Avad accepted the wine, letting Marad support his head as he sipped eagerly until the wine went down the wrong way. It washed the soreness from his throat and soothed the wracking nerves and dash of head rush that tag teamed him through the pain.

“This is going to last two months?” he coughed.

“Unfortunately,” Marad sighed, putting the cup down on a table within Avad’s reach. “Thankfully the envoys in attendance have understood the circumstances and agreed to remain in Meridian until you are ready to receive them. Vanasha and Erend have been treating with them, reminding them of your hospitality, and word has been sent to Uthid.”Avad’s brow furrowed, but seeming to think it due to the pain, Marad stood, muttered something about Flame of the Evening, and hurried from the room, leaving Aloy to rush to Avad’s side.

“That can’t be right, the envoy’s should have been gone,” Avad mumble to the ceiling, trying to make sense of it. “They need to spread the word of my decree’s back to their holds and villages.” His breathing increased, the pain in his shoulder mounting with each laboured pant. “The...the word needs to be shared, set the slaves to be freedmen, let them-let them be merchants or soldiers or artisans. Why-why are they still here?”

Fingers in his hair stilled his breathing for a moment. He hadn’t thought to being without his kingly helm, realising now that of course he’d be without it while in bed and infirm. He sighed, relaxing into the hesitant, calloused touch.

In the chair beside the fire the cub stirred, roused by Marad’s departure, ears flattening as Avad’s anxiety crested, then snorted as the man calmed down. He yawned, stretched, got up and lumbered to Avad’s bed, scrambling up onto the softer sheets before promptly going back to sleep when no objection was raised.

Aloy waited until his breathing calmed and he no longer winced from the pain in his shoulder. “It was Vanasha’s call to keep them here.”

“Vanasha?” Avad tried to look at her, hissing in pain from the movement. The cub’s ears twitched. “The envoy’s need to spread the word. I cannot pardon every infraction of my new laws because the subjects do not know they exist. You must send them away, now, back to their lands and-”

“The tower was destroyed, Avad. You were targeted,” Aloy cut off, her fingers leaving his hair as she moved so he could see her face, brows creased sternly as she stared at him. “The Sun-King outlaws slavery and the fighting pits in front of every envoy within the Carja and Oseram lands and he’s attacked in his own palace? This was a terrorist attack, and we need to know who the Lord behind it was, so none of them are leaving until Vanasha and Erend can figure it out.”

Terrorism, in his own Sundom. How had he let it come to this? Avad swallowed thickly, fighting to keep himself from falling into another breathing fit. His chest burned, but not with the same pain as his shoulder. What could he say of his rule when his predecessor, his father Jiran the Bloodthirsty, mad beyond reason and blaming the sun for his actions, had never suffered such folly upon his reign until his supposedly sane son took his throne from him?

“You’re right,” he choked, looking at his pale red bed spread, the cub a surviving ball of brown oak in the velvety flames. It was the smart thing to do, and he decided this once that he would blame the pain for not seeing that.

“ _Vanasha_ is right. I’m sure she’ll be here soon for you to tell her that,” Aloy said, but her stance softened at the pitiful sight he must have made. He tried to sit up straighter, tried to salvage some semblance of regality, forgetting that Aloy had no cares for how he held himself or looked. The cub, sensing his need, stretched its head towards him, groaning as he reached forward in returned and scratched its ears with his good hand.

She studied a tapestry on the wall beside his bed, head tilted towards it, giving him a respite to collect himself, but also for her own curiosity. He watched her interest in the artwork, letting it ground him as he thought back on the history behind the decades old piece.

“It’s of the Sunspear,” Avad remembered.

“No, that’s of a man,” Aloy said, still studying the embroidery of the soldier armoured in ebony Carja plate so old she would not recognise it, mouth captured in a roar as he leapt upon the Behemoth below.

Avad smiled. “Sunspear was the name he was given after he held Meridian’s bridge against an invasion with only his spear and a Stalker he wrangled and dragged to the ridge to scatter the invaders as they came. He was a soldier during my father’s father’s reign, he fought in battle’s that are talked about by Uthid’s whelp’s.”

A smile sparkled in Aloy’s hazel eyes. “What was his name before?”

Avad went to shake his head, then stopped when he remembered his neck and shoulder. “No one can say. His legacy was before my time, and any remaining veterans have either died or their minds have passed. Some say he perished in his last battle twenty seven years ago at age sixty in the Bleached Canyons that bordered the Nora passage.”

Aloy’s sparkle turned wicked. “Go Nora.”

Avad laughed from his chest, the pain worth it. “Another story says he was there for the battle for Meridian, holding the bridge alone like he did all those years ago.”

“They blew the bridge then blew the ridge while I was under it,”  Aloy reminded him.

Avad shrugged with his good shoulder and it only hurt a little. “Maybe they learned from their mistake the first time. Or maybe the ghost of the Sunspear was watching over the bridge and our saviour of Meridian.”

Aloy laughed that time, shaking her head, a luxury he didn’t think he’d miss as he kept his neck straight to cinch the poultice in place. “I had Uthid and Ni- your company in Meridian village covering my route to the spire, not a ghost.”

_Yet one has haunted you ever since_.“The Sun works in mysterious ways,” Avad said. He regarded the tapestry again. “This was my father’s.”

“And you kept it?” Aloy asked, the look she shot him incredulous.

Avad didn’t answer for a long moment. When he looked at her, he felt a pressure he’d been carrying on his shoulders for almost ten years lighten. “Believe it or not, my father was once just that. A father. Before the Red Raids he was just another Sun-King. He was stern, and his discipline was harsh sometimes. But he taught me how to wield a sword, and he would bring me to some of his meetings.” He took another look at the tapestry. “The night I stormed the palace with Erend, Ersa and the Carja loyal to me, my father had guards posted outside and within his chambers. I won’t bore you with the details, but it was a gruesome night. Nothing within my father’s chambers was left unstained by blood. Nothing, that is, except for his favourite tapestry.”

Aloy nodded solemnly. “You brought it here to remind you of the father you once had.”

“Just as you wear your boar skin cloak and carry that necklace to keep the one you lost close,” Avad answered, knowing that she would understand.

“He wasn’t my birth father,” Aloy said, the conviction weak.

Avad smiled for her. “Words and blood are both fickle things. Does that really matter?” he asked, reaching for the cup of wine Marad had set down to keep the thoughts as thoughts.

“You know if Erend catches you he’ll force you to go to the Lodge with him,” Vanasha said as she strode into the room, bronze disks across the belt of her purple sarong clinking with each purposeful step. The cub raised its head, the stub of its tail thumping like it actually had one to show his pleasure of a new friend joining them.

“He’s already tried. Luckily I can pull ‘A Sun-King cannot be intoxicated in public’ into my decline of a night out whenever I feel it necessary,” Avad answered, setting the empty cup down. 

As usual Vanasha gave nothing away, her words breezy, her face stern as she looked down upon her king in his bed. For once Aloy stepped back, feeling the command in the room shift, seeking her place in it but unsure when it came to the court, the kingdom, or sometimes even just being inside and forgetting she had to lower her voice.

“How is your friend doing, Aloy?” Vanasha asked, not looking away from Avad.

“The envoy,” Aloy said tightly. “is resting in his own chambers. Derric is watching him.”

“Is he still in pain?”

“Complaining about pain and actually being in it are two different things,” Aloy said, her voice growing darker, a scowl marring her features. Avad would have chuckled, if Vanasha’s unflinching gaze wasn’t boring into him.

And then her dreaded words came. “Could you give us a minute alone, Aloy?”

“I’ll go check on the prisoner.” The Nora did not hesitate to leave the room, the cub fumbling with the slippery bed sheets as he scampered after her, almost knocking her over as he stepped on her foot and made her stumble. She cussed it on the ear, barely a feather’s touch, more fond than furious, and its pink tongue lolled as it toddled after her at an easier distance.

“You brought up the Shadow Carja envoy on purpose. To give her a reason to leave she couldn’t argue with. Be careful, she will catch you eventually.” Avad watched the doors close, bringing his eyes slowly back to Vanasha’s. “Have you even blinked?”

She didn’t, but her brow dipped low. “I told you this would happen.”

“You told me you had _concerns_ ,” Avad corrected, but even he could hear the petulance in his own voice, just stopping himself from crossing his arms over his chest. “You told me to revoke my decrees and I refused. The Sundom will be better off for them once the nobles return to their lands. Yes, Aloy told me of your little ploy, don’t try to deny it. She may have bought your investigation story but I know my people wouldn’t attack me in such a way. I liberated them. I-”

“Are you going to tell me you’re their Sun-King as well? Because any king who has to tell their subjects they are under his rule isn’t much of monarch. Your rule isn’t a man grown yet, don’t you go behaving like that as well. Are you finished?” Vanasha levelled him with that unwavering gaze, and suddenly he found his mouth dry of any of the words he’d prepared. When he didn’t offer a retort, Vanasha came closer to the bed. “Do you remember me coming to your tower that day?”

It took longer than Avad was proud of to fully remember the day his Sundom became no better than one of the Pits. “I do,” he finally recalled, and something close to unease prickled his skin. “You requested to see me in the water gardens.”

She must have seen the reserve of his agitation creeping back. She perched herself on the corner of his bed. “I wanted you out of that tower so some people of mine could search it, clear it of anything planted there.”

“Honestly, Vanasha,” Avad scoffed. “Your paranoia has truly reached new levels. How in the Sun could you have known, or even predicted, something that amiss within the palace?”

Her eyes were black stone. “Because while I was in Sunfall for two years, rescuing your little brother from Bahavis’s clutches, I saw paranoia fulfilled beyond your darkest imaginings, and I saw how desperately those pigs clung to their slaves, their ring dogs and their pleasure girls. I heard them say what they would do with your skull when they got their hands on it, how they would show you what it meant to disrespect the sun as they pissed through your eyeholes and used your skull to carry their shit. I heard plans that would break them through Meridian’s forces fail and plans to desecrate a Nora ritual where youths become full grown, and I couldn’t do a thing to stop it!” She took a deep breath, quickly checking the door, like she feared Aloy could have heard that last part.

“Vanasha....” Avad fumbled for his words. “I didn’t know.”

Her eyes found his so sharply he feared she’d given herself whiplash, her plump dark lips practically snarling. “I _told_ you I had my doubts. I told you to work the nobles individually, to enforce one reform at a time. ‘There will always be time’ I said to you. We could have had the one who did this in custody by now!”

“I had to impose upon them,” Avad defended. “I had to make them see that my wishes for peace does not make me a passive King who can be walked upon. My word is law, and I gave them the chance to have their say. If they spurn my gifts, then why should I give them anything?”

She finally blinked. “What are your reforms, Avad?”

The question surprised him. “Abolishment of slavery.”

“And?” Vanasha asked.

Why was she asking? She had been there when the draft was written up, had commented on Shivon’s spelling error. “That all Fighting Pits and blood sacrifices are to be banned.”

“And?” she pressed.

“That all sexes are to be equal in the eyes of the sun. Woman may join the army, become forge masters and speak at court.”

“Then why aren’t you listening to what I have to say?” she demanded in a voice that made Avad wince. “I offer you council but you are as bull-headed as Erend, as traditional as Uthid and as smitten with Aloy as the day Ersa died, though, fortunately, you’re much better at hiding it. So far the only one you have yet to listen to is me, and I’ve done everything short of carving it into your wooden table to get you to hear it.”

He stared at her, blindsided like the sun shining in his eyes, and she stared back, demanding he say something, anything, to prove she was overreacting. She wouldn’t get her vindication. Avad’s shame built upon him, a wave cresting and consuming him, taking his feet out from under him and leaving him sprawled in a bed unable to turn his head to look out his window.

His Sundom was awash with turmoil and strife and he wasn’t doing anything to fix any of it. He was as part of the problem as his squabbling nobles, ignoring Vanasha, putting Nasadi on show at his meetings yet not having her on his council. He’d been acting like his nobles were the issue, that they needed a time out.

But Vanasha was right. Avad’s actions were the ones of a child stomping their feet, kicking and screaming to be heard.

He needed to stop screaming. He needed to let other voices be heard.

“You may go,” Avad said shortly.

“What?” Vanasha hissed.

“Marad is bringing a healer. Leave, Vanasha,” Avad said, firmly this time, using the last of his will power to stare her down until she got up and whisked from the room.

He sank into his bed, staring at the tapestry. He didn’t think his misery could pile any hire, until the unbidden thought he’d been holding back crept into his mind. What would his father do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://ko-fi.com/A17123XG)
> 
> [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A17123XG)


	12. Uthid

"They will see you now, traitor."

Lifting his head felt like lifting a spear after hours of battle, but Uthid wouldn't let them see him weak. "Which of them am I seeing?"

"All of them," the Shadow Carja growled. He prodded the air near Uthid's knee with the butt of his spear, a threat of a strike if Uthid didn't move. But they hadn't struck him after two weeks of captivity, so the grizzled soldier took his time heaving his old bones off the floor.

The Shadow Carja was a head taller and two stone heavier than Uthid. His black armour glinted across the shoulders from the light of the opened door at his back. New armour. New and shiny, barely a scratch. Uthid wanted to ask if he'd gotten those nicks forcing a beggar out of the merchant district, but that sounded like something Shadow would say, so kept the petulant thought to himself and began to walk.

"What should I call you?" he asked the Shadow Carja.

"Sir," the Shadow Carja replied, voice haughty.

This time, Uthid let his derision show in a snort. "You earned that sir yet, boy?"

The butt of the spear swatted the back of his legs, forcing him to stumble. "I Captain the holding cells. I decide how we get traitors to reveal their schemes."

"Ah, so that's why you don't have a nick yet," Uthid growled, glaring forwards. "Got to stand back while your goons slash the prisoners until they scream, right? wouldn't want to get a splash on that pretty armour of yours."

The spear hit the back of his head that time, knocking him to one knee. "I can arrange for you to find out. Move."

Uthid thought he'd outgrown his stubbornness when Aloy made the Greenclimb to save his life. Apparently he wasn't as mature as his wrinkled skin made him seem. He'd chosen sense over a fools death once, he should keep in mind to do it again. So he made the rest of the walk in silence, the Shadow Carja's presence at his back like a finger skimming the back of his neck.

Uthid had come to Sunfall an envoy, and by following the path set by their schemes and politics, he'd made himself a captive. The moment he'd heard of what had befallen his king, Uthid knew he must take action upon himself. A runner would take too long, a week at least if he ran all the way to Meridian without rest. Uthid had to return to Meridian himself, without delay. So he told his men to pack up, they would leave at dawn. It was Taeko who reminded him that the borders would be patrolled, and if all of Avad's soldier's were seen crossing back into the Sundom before morning in haste, it might not look so good.

And so Uthid chose the dishonourable route, one mistake in many, but his King needed him. He arranged passage, a boat that could smuggle he and his men from Daybrink and take them south along the cliffs. He and his were prepared to fight their way through storms and Snapmaws to get back to Meridian, swords sharpened, bow lines strung and arrows notched.

The only right choice Uthid made that night was scouting ahead of his party, but he knew in his heart it was impatience, not forethought that gave his men time to get away. He’d rushed ahead, right into the dock filled with the Shadow Carja waiting to escort him back to Sunfall. He hadn’t tried to fight or resist. He’d dropped his weapon and gone with them. Taeko would get to Meridian, all Uthid had to do was wait the Shadow Carja out, and pray his king was alive.

With the Shadow Carja at his back, Uthid could only walk forwards, but he knew the way. He held his head up as he walked up the carved stone walkway, right into the summer palace. Stone pillars rose on either side of the walkway, carved into the likeness of Jiran, or how Jiran saw himself, clay hands towards the sun, basking in its light like a man holy. But Uthid  had blood on his sword and none of it was shed in the divine light. He’d killed for this man, and fled believing in him. Years wasted. A legacy wasted.

They passed the thick stone archway, two Shadow Carja sneering at him as they stood guard. They took him through the front entrance up the twisting cobbled stone, through the arched gate that served as the main entrance. Glyphs of the sun ran along the walls, a fake basking of light for all that beheld Jiran's memory as the one true way. Only Shadow Carja soldiers and high merchants seeking trade, nobles and the most sought after courtesans who lived amongst the noble's hareem lingered in these halls. Everyone else had to make due with the shambled districts below the stone mesa.

Uthid turned right, heading for the smaller stone staircase that would take him to the nobles meeting chambers, where he'd been treating with them for the past almost month now. The Guard at his back grabbed his arm and yanked. He stumbled, almost toppling over completely as he was forced towards the huge walkway carved into the mountain itself, leading him higher into the Summer Palace.

Uthid had lived in Sunfall since Bahavis's bounty on his head made him a target for all shard collectors, and he'd travelled there many times during his time as a soldier, during even Jiran's father's reign. But never had he been invited into the grand hall of the Summer Palace, especially into the Shadowman's Court. The stone walls were notched expertley together, the hinge points effortlessly held together by their own weight. Across the walls, arching like a rising sun on the horizon, were more of the same glyphs; a full sun, a setting sun, the battles won by the Shadow Carja, the story of their liberation into Sunfall. Uthid would sooner call it a retreat. 

At the head of the room, raised on a dais like their mesa above the common people, the nobles of Sunfall watched Uthid walk into the centre of the room and be stopped by his guard. Some sat in the chairs provided, other's stood. They were an odd mixture of men, some with greying beards and salt and pepper hair, some not old enough to shave yet. Inheritance had never sat well with Uthid. What right did boys as green as the Claim in spring have on a council? There were lame's and cripples, they were the ones mostly in the chairs, but Uthid suspected only half of them had true battle experience. The other's sat with too much practiced grace, despite the bent spine or humped above the shoulder's, to be anything but born into their nobility. There were a spattering of preists there too wearing their darker Shadow robes and mounted helms, and more soldier's with faces hard and eyes severe as they glared at Uthid.

Behind the throng of nobles, high on the wall, a holy song was etched into the stone in the centre of a giant shining sun. Uthid could not read the letter's, but he knew what the Shadow Carja held sacred. These would not be words from hyms the brothers sung back in Meridian with each sunrise. These would be the ramblings of Jiran, of how the sun created the Carja to be the shadow of its earth, and cast those lost in darkness back into the light.

Uthid had never learned his letters, but he'd learned to read men's faces before he could say what a glyph was.  _These men would gladly see me dead and be done with it._ He saw it at a glance, but refused to avert his eyes. He picked one noble, the forefront of the group in their chairs, and stared him down. The man's chair could  have held three of Uthid, the Shadow Carja noble sagging into it's cushions, each fold of jiggling skin overflowing from the chair like a fist squeezing clay. His skin, though still Carja brown, was pallid and grey, making the noble look half a corpse already, despite his deeply red rich robes, slashed and filled with purple down the sides with a blue sash barely containing his midsection.

_This one is not cripple by birth or war,_ Uthid decided.

No steward announced Uthid's arrival. Instead a humbly dressed thin man to the left of the gaggle of noble's stepped to the edge of the raised platform. "You stand before the honerable Nobility of Sunfall, Lords of the Shadow Carja and Warden's of the Northern lands, Shield's to the Forgotten, Defender's of the Oppressed, Voice's of the Silenced, Marshels of the Sun's Mesa." Uthid almost laughed three times during the announcement. "In the Shadowman's court it is customary for petitioners and the accused to kneel."

"Seeing as I am no Petitioner, and my old knees do tend to creak these days, I shall stand," Uthid said. A soldier would kneel, but he was a king's envoy and could not shame his King by suggesting he was less than these pompus upjumped Merchant Chuffs.

"I have a string of titles myself. Lord of the Last Ray's, High General to the Sundom, War Chief to the Sun-King."

One of the noblemen, his leg twisted and constantly shifting in his seat, rolled his small eyes. "Lord of a pile of rocks, a General without his army and a Chief with no weapons. Are you a soldier who comes before us or the set up to a joke?"

"That would make your lordships the punchline, so perhaps." Uthid was fed up. Even in his most decorated years as a warrior he'd never been permitted to the Shadowman's court, yet now he was expected to bend before it. Here was not here as a man fighting his case. this was a murmurs farce, and if the lords of Sunfall were revoking the thin curtosey they'd showed him, then so was he.

The noble Uthid had chosen to focus on turned to his crippled friend. "This man is a messenger from a pretender, Nasin, let him have his pretend titles. Avad could never understand that we are a free people so he sent this... brute who abandoned his own people. A usurper sending a traitor to parlay, it's a wonder we even let you into the territory, let alone our sacred city."

The other noblemen murmured their agreement. Uthid knew he had chosen well. The noble before him held the sway. he probably held the most shards of them all, how else could one get so fat? "As I told your lords, I was no traitor. I was forced from my home and the men I'd served with for most of my life." He cut himself off, shaking his head. "Do my Lords really need to hear all this again?"

The fat noble raised his lip in a sneer. "Do not presume to assume our methods. You got off easy for your crimes."

"An accusation and a crime are not the same thing," Uthid growled. "Just like lie and truth, or have you forgotten the difference?" When the fat noble's piggy eyes narrowed, Uthid knew now was the time to stop showing his resistance. He'd proved he wouldn't go quietly, now it was time to prove he was smarter than them. "My lord," he addressed his chosen noble specifically. "May I know your name?"

When he blinked his fleshy cheeks wobbled. "Nobleman Sudan."

“If it please you, my Lord, may I request a private audience?”  

It did not please him. “I keep no secrets from my fellow nobles, nor from my soldiers or fellow man. Good friends, all.”

Uthid held back his snort, aware of the Guard still at his back. “I would not want my words to be heard by my Sun-King’s enemies... or by your own lordship’s. Too many ears, and too many mouths replying are bound to hear not my words, but what they want to hear, and pass judgement unjustly.”

“Avad may have enemies in this hall, I do not,” Sudan answered sharply. “Do you mock my companions integrity?”

_The integrity of a Glinthawk circling a wounded Grazer,_ Uthid thought grudgingly. “I question the motives of merchants on principle,” he replied. “But I stand before men who turned their backs easily on their Sundom and rightful king. How many son’s were struck down during the liberation, and how many of you attacked your own to get out?”

One of the standing nobles stepped forwards, long of limb with a black beard thick as tar and covering half his face. “The liberation was the usurper’s work. He aligned himself with Oseram heathens, stormed our city and took our homes from us! He swept upon us like he night and tore the throat from my nephew, a young boy of fourteen. He would have slain my entire family too, if Nobleman Sudan’s son had not put himself in the way.”

Uthid’s hopes plummeted as Sudan glared down at him with black, wet eyes. _Fuck me,_ he thought. _A man’s hate is never more justified than when it is lit from the death of a son._

“Jinan was always a brave boy. I was not surprised to find my son died a hero.”

Uthid did not know what to say. “My Lord, I have never had a son. War has been my wife since I was old enough to hold a spear. I am so sorry for what happened to your son, but is it your claim that Avad murdered your son himself?”

“My son, and many more,” Sudan said, his voice shaking, lose skin turning pink.

The bearded noble took over. “All the Carja in Shadow before you are cast darker by the loss of their family eight years ago. Not only Sudan’s son, but my father as well. Lord Cahill’s daughter was taken, and his grandchildren are still captive in Meridian. When the Usurper attacked our homes his Oseram became more beastly than the machines they butcher. The mark of the savage is on them all. The tribes breed and mix, it is known, and savages breed savages that bite. It was all my brothers in Shadow could do to put them down and escape before they slew us all.”

Through his thick beard, the man was _smirking_ as he told his murmur’s tale. Uthid wanted to take his knife and peel those lips off and sling them like a blast bomb. “May I have your name as well?”

The bearded man tilted his chin down toward Uthid. “Lord Haman Navis.”

“Haman of family Navis, I name you a liar.”

Steel whispered against leather as Haman drew his sword. “If you are indeed your Usurper’s war chief, defend that slander with your body.”

“Give me back my sword and you’ll have your match!” Uthid yelled back.

“Enough!” Lord Sudan’s cheeks jiggled from the repercussion of his booming voice. “I will have no bloodshed in the Shadowman’s Court.” He glared at Haman. “Put up your steel, or you will be forced from the Court.”

“You do not own this council,” Haman sneered. “My honour demands retribution.”

“Your honour demands nothing, boy. Your beard may be thick but your father’s lands are still held until you come unto the inheritance. Blood that sword for the first time and maybe you can defend your honour. Until then, put up your steel.”

Haman seethed, the hairs of his beard shaking as he ground his teeth, but he sheathed his sword. “Beneath the roof of the Shadowman’s Court, no blood is shed. Those are our rules, you are right, Lord Sudan... But I shall want a reckoning with this grizzled chief before he leaves the city.”

“ _If_ he leaves the city,” another lord said. He stood, but while one arm was tucked behind his back, the other lay limp and heavy at his side, and Uthid guessed that if he tried to move it nothing much would come of it. “See how this traitor stirs up trouble? I say turn his face to the sun and be done with him before he gets the blood he seeks, the blood of what remains of our sons.”

Uthid did not like the sound of that, and he had not come all this way to hold his tongue. “I am not a traitor. I am War Chief to Sun-King Avad, the Fourteenth Sun-King, the trueborn ruler of the Sundom. The laws of succession are clear and Avad succeeded the Sundom his father would have burned to the ground if he hadn’t taken it from him.”

Another of the Lords spoke up. “He speaks treason! We took his lands and status within Sunfall but I say not enough. I say we take his lying tongue !”

“Take his head, rather,” Haman growled. “Or let me blood my sword.”

“What would a Shadow Carja know of honour?” Uthid threw back, knowing it was a mistake as it left his lips.

Three of the sitting nobles flew to their feet, four more pushing their way from behind the chairs, all starting forwards until Sudan halted them with a raised hand. “Step back, or debase yourselves to this creature, my friends. We will hear him out before I... before we deal with him.”

“I think we’ve all heard enough,” a Lord with grey whisker’s thinner than a Carja woman’s stiletto said. “Words are wind, and any man will lie to get their way, as any maid who thought her first love would be her one and only will tell you.”

“Then let me say my truth,” Uthid insisted.

A noble older than Uthid, pallid skin flaking like rust on a Scrapper, pointed a shaking finger down at him. “We want no part of any treason. We are good people in Sunfall, fair, lawful, _loyal_ people. Pour no more poison in our ears and be gone with you, or we shall throw you into the Fighting Pits.”

_How have I offended this one?_ “Might I have your name as well, my Lord?”

The old man sniffed and looked away, so Sudan answered for him. “This is Lord Cahill, third of his name.”

_He speaks from fear._ It was his daughter who had been lost in the liberation, if he declared for Avad, or even offered Uthid any leeway or support, the rest of his family could answer with their lives. “When Avad took the Sundom from his father it was his intention that every citizen would prosper from his reforms. Only discord between our tribes furthers the discontent.”

“King Jiran was my sovereign. Who is Avad in his reign? Why does he trouble us now? He never felt the need to trouble us during the war of Meridian, yet he bothers us now, a beaten cur with his helm in his hands, begging for armistice,” said Sudan, and the nobles beside him nodded.

“He saved the Sundom, my Lords.”

“From its rightful ruler?” Haman asked.

“From ruin.” Uthid took a step towards the platform of nobles. “If Avad had not risen up, another tribe would have. You call the Oseram and Nora savages. Well, imagine that savagery unchecked.” He hated referring to Erend and Aloy as savages, but he had to speak these nobles language somehow. “Now, let me say my truth.”

“A traitor knows no truth. A traitor-”

Sudan held up his hand and Haman fell silent. The fat lord regarded Uthid for a long moment, the hall so quiet you could hear the stone crumble at the hinges. Finally, his chins wobbling, Sudan said, “Speak, and we shall decide if it is truth.”

Uthid nodded. “I learned of the attack on my Sun-King in your Lord’s very presence, and honour called for me to go to him as soon as possible. But, you must understand, my King is not just my ruler. He is also my friend. I do not mean offence, but when I was forced from Sunfall Avad gave me a home, a reason to carry on after all was taken from me. Men with my purpose do not grow old. Artisan’s retire when their hands grow stiff. Merchant’s take their saved gold and live comfortably. How many retired soldier’s do you know?”

None of the nobles answered.

“Exactly.” Uthid had them, he had to keep them. “When I heard the news, I told my men to pack up and be ready to move out. It was on my initiative to leave Sunfall as quickly as possible. I arranged the passage on the boat, I chose the time. I do not know how you found us, but I can see that it was a mistake to act so rashly.” Uthid looked to Sudan. “I will not beg for your forgiveness, for I was acting on duty, and for the love I hold for my King.”

“Duty,” Sudan sighed, sagging back into his chair. “I see.”

“My lords,” Cahill said. He pushed himself onto shaky legs, trembling so much Uthid feared he’d tip the chair over. “Will you permit me to ask a few questions of the captive?”

The rest of the room grumbled their assent.

Uthid prepared himself to be stuck in the audience chamber for another year. Lord Cahill’s attendant struggled to hold the old man up, bearing most of his weight as the man’s knees knocked.

“How many tribes have declared officially for Avad? Tell us that” Cahill croaked.

“The Oseram have pledged themselves to his Radiance.”

“All of the Sundom knows of his alliance with the Oseram. How many Carja tribes have declared?” Cahill demanded.

_Too few,_ Uthid thought. “We have the Southwest tribes. But Avad’s decree’s have eliminated all discord. There is no slavery, no fighting and no intertribal strife. “

“No other tribes have openly declared?” Cahill asked. Uthid fumbled for words, but none came. “Your silence is all the answer I require. Your king brings us only enemies, to us and our ways.” Cahill turned to face the other nobles. “My lords, we asked the traitor what Avad offers us. Let me answer. He offers us defeat and death to our traditions.”

Sudan opened his eyes slowly, as if the effort were almost too much for him. “My fellows cut to the bone, as ever. Do you have anything else to say, traitor, or can we put an end to this farce. I grow weary of your face.”

Uthid felt a stab of despair. From the moment he’d entered the hall, he’d known this was all a show. He’d said from the start that Avad should have sent another man, a real Lord, a soldier, Marad. Even Vanasha would have been better. Someone who could speak for him without tripping on their own tongue. “You grow weary quickly, my lords,” Uthid fumbled for his words, desperate, his thoughts coming out faster than he could connect them. “Weary of the promises you made to the regency of the Sundom. Cahill, you are old enough to have lived while I served the Twelfth Sun-King, and Jiran, but the moment Avad inconveniences your blood lust, you turn your backs on a kingdom that nurtured you and yours through the fleeing from the east, when we were the slaves being driven from our homes. Your cities are built upon the lands they found together, and in return our ancestors swore to be of the same men. Carja men!”

Cahill fingered the scarf around his neck. “Oaths they were, sworn by our ancestors. Sworn as were our traditions of blood and sun and power.”

“Power Jiran abused.”

Haman stepped forwards again. “If I may, my lords?”

Sudan waved him on. “Haman, your perspective my offer insight. Your generation is the future, guide us there.”

Uthid stared quizzically up at his chosen Lord, the change so sudden Uthid felt he’d walked from Winter into Summer within steps of each other.

Haman took the praise with a smirk and bow. “Loyalty is a virtue, my Lords. It is a lesson my father always taught me. To be true is to be. And Avad is no true man. Your people call Jiran the mad Sun-King, but it is the Usurper who is the monster. More beast than man, puffed up on pride and bloodlust. What happened to Kadaman will forever be a tragedy, but the moment he realised he was next for the throne, the prince took it. It was not Jiran who murdered his father in his bed. It was not Jiran who butchered his own people to gain a crown that did not belong to him. And it is not Jiran now who centres his soldier’s on his cities, leaving his freeholds to be unmanned and attacked. He has abandoned his own people’s lands, let machines tear through Carja settlements who risked much to bring him to his throne but Avad worries how his Oseram friends are doing in the Claim or Pitchcliff, or wherever those backwaters may lie. Say what you will about Jiran, but he looked after his own. His Radiance? Avad is a blackness cast upon the ground like a plague, and he shall one day die the same way, if the assassin in his tower has not already finished the job.”

The Shadowman’s Court had grown still. Uthid could feel the chill in the air now that it was no longer directed at him. Sudan was looking at the young Haman as if he were a roach on his table in need of a hard heel... Then, as murmurs of agreement rose up amongst the other nobles, he gave a ponderous nod that set his chins to wobbling. “A blackness. Aye. He has brought us only grief, squalor and death. Say on, Haman.”

The young Lord blinked, his smirk growing. “As Sudan says, grief and death. What could he bring on if we allow him to continue? Open your eyes, as did Jiran to the light of the sun, and the wisdom of the shadow. The derangement is done. The War for Meridian is done. Jiran was our king, and once he comes of age, Itamen will realise who his rightful forbearer was and return to us. And we shall be ready.”

“Wise words,” Sudan said. He glared down at Uthid with such weight, Uthid almost bent his knee. But he refused, standing tall. If this would be it, he would go out remembered as he was. “I think we have heard sufficient treason for one day. You ran in the night, conveniently close to hearing the news of the successful attack on your own Sun-King, where the only other man injured was our lord in Chief. The evidence is damming enough. You conspired to stage the attack while here, so no one would suspect the real target was out Lord. You planned to murder the only man strong enough to come and bring us up from the darkness your Sun-King threw us into eight years ago!” The Lord pushed himself to his feet. The effort brought a red flush to his neck. “Those streets you walk every day were his doing. The markets were our citizens make money were because of him, Sylens, our Lord in Shadow. You are nothing but a soldier, a killer, come to change our ways by force and blood. You would take our heads if you could, so I think we shall take yours instead. Guards! Seize this man!”

Before Uthid could even think to draw his weapon, her was surrounded by long spears, one pressing insistently on the back of his neck. “My lords,” he cried out. “I promise you there was no plot to assassinate your Lord in Shadow. I am just an envoy!”

“Are you? You come marching into mine and my nobles lands like a tyrant. I say you are no lord. You are no soldier, no chief, no envoy, only a murderer, a spy and assassin, a peddler of lies and treason. I should have your tongue torn out with hot pincers and deliver you to Meridian flayed for the Glinthawks. But the sun is merciful, and so am I. Guards, take this creature to the Den’s. He will be held as you hunt down every man who came here with him. Close the borders. The Traitors only meals will be their lying tongues and foolish ears. Have their hands and heads cut off and staked on posts along the border. And only once every man is imprisoned will the same be given to this scum. I want to see this traitors head on a spike with a spear point shoved between his lying teeth!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	13. Aloy

Aloy had taken to sitting under the tapestry’s during Avad’s weeks of recovery, fingers playing across the air as the glyphs danced across her Focus.

She was never fond of being still, so her first few days she'd taken the time to really explore Meridian. She'd wandered the markets, haggled with merchants and eaten the spiced food that made her tongue tingle, and washed it down with Carja wine, also spiced, though she still didn't see the point in that. After the markets got boring she strolled down to the docks. She could hear the Oseram steelworker and the Carja merchant arguing from the mesa steps, and smiled to herself, following their voices and spending an afternoon watching the fishing vessels coming and going with her feet dangling in the water.

She could see from the palace balconies that much of Meridian Village had been rebuilt in the six years since it's destruction, but she never once entertained the thought of setting foot on the soil stained by blood.

But as Avad's recovery stretched into its second week, Aloy found she'd explored all there was to explore in the Holy Carja city. Meridian was actually smaller than she'd realised. In the Nora villages you never truly knew where the boundaries ended, bleeding so seamlessly into the wilds that she could walk for hours and still be in Mother's Cradle. The claim, though vast, dropped so suddenly back into the rest of the world on its borders that she almost rode a Broadhead over the cliffs by accident.

Exhausted of places to explore and growing frustrated, it was Marad who suggested Aloy take an internal adventure, and procured scrolls and parchments of Meridian's history, the lineage of past Sun-King's, what the Red Raids had truly entailed, and some of the Carja's most notable figures of history.

She'd started at the beginning and let the information pour through her Focus, opening new documents, comparing them to the ways of the Old Ones, bringing her finds to Sylens so they could compare it to what they had discovered years ago.

Her partner in all things history was still recovering from his own injuries. A dislocated ankle had suspended him to his bed, burns discolouring his dark skin to a pale brown in patches all across his body. It wasn't as gruesome or irreversible as most of the injuries Aloy had witnessed, though his complaining made it seem he'd lost the entire foot, so she had to seek refuge for her studies where none would think to look. Her room was too obvious, Erend would find her if she tried one of the drink houses, and when Vanasha wasn't attending  audience with Avad, she somehow managed to be everywhere else.

Where could the Nora go where no one would think to look? Where would Aloy never picture herself being?

And so here she was, perched under the tapestry’s where Carja politics was babbled, law was broken and reshaped to fit the needs of the fattest purse, and petty men whined like children when they did not get their way. When it was empty, it was perfect.

Aloy closed the folder in her Focus's vast library, sitting back and resting her head against the wall. The Carja religion was something she'd tried multiple times to wrap her head around, and every time she came away with more questions than answers. She'd always found it hard to hold faith to Nora customs, but these Carja rituals just didn't make sense. In her effort to understand what the Mad Sun-King had been thinking when he executed the Red Raids, she'd only managed to work herself up.

_Men who act without reason, cannot be reasoned with._

Rost had said that once when she'd spied a tribe of Bandits across the bluff.

She banished the memory, locking it away in a dark place before it could spread, linking Rost to war, to pain. Linking Bandits to death, to Nil. 

Her cub chased his own reflection across the polished marble floor, claws skittering, leaping at his distorted image like this time, this would be the moment he finally caught the blurry other bear, squeaking in outrage as it slipped through his huge paws.

Her ear warmed, pulsing once. “A creature of family _,”_ a soft voice drifted through. “The Bear holds to its parents until full adulthood.”

“You’re awake?” Aloy asked, relaxing again.

“For the moment,” GAIA said, her voice higher, and she sounded tired, something Aloy had never heard before. Could a recorded voice be tired? “My systems are still weak, Aloy. I never have a lot of time when I speak with you, but I must say this now before I lose my function... Systems depleted. Powering down.”

Her Focus had been doing this since her first encounter with the Cub. It activated, sparked to life, speaking in soft intervals, then died again. She sagged back against the pillar. The Focus could spend days, weeks, charging, all for only a few whispered words from GAIA that would drain its activation, something else she needed to look into. She should also probably let GAIA speak instead of wasting the charge with questions.

She shook her head, disappointment pulling deep from within herself. This was taking too long with too little to come from it. She looked to the Cub.

She no longer felt urgency when looking at the furry creature, or restlessness. This wasn't like the frantic dash to find her mother. She had a lead, she has GAIA and she would find a way to bring her out of her coma, and she had time, and accepting that had brought a wave of clarity through her, and she smiled as she watched her little friend bound across the stone, skidding when he lost his footing and sliding along his tummy until he bounced off the wall with a growled  _ooff._

Aloy looked up at the tapestry the cub landed under. A Carja Warrior in gilded black armour faced the sun upon a bridge, a spear clutched in his hands. Shadows cast his profile stark against the light, the detail so fine Aloy could see flecks of blood on his tan Carja skin. She looked at it for a long time, relaying how Avad had spoken of a similar tapestry hanging in his room.

She activated her Focus. “Sunspear.”

A single data entry floated into vision, a rather disappointing legacy for the warrior Avad described to her. She opened it none-the-less, the cub toddling over to curl into her side as she began to read.

"Faceless. Nameless. None have seen a warrior of his ilk before, and are unlikely to again in this cycle of the sun. The Sunspear was formidable, fierce and loyal to his Sundom. It is said there will never be a Carja so honourable as he."

Aloy felt her skin prickle in excitement. How many daring deeds of honour filled this folder? She'd never read of a true hero before and felt an eagerness she hadn't felt since Rost had first begun training her for the proving bubble up inside of her.

"Like a star in the night sky, the Sunspear simply came into being one day, his name born from the lips of cheering men. Sunspear! Sunspear! Chanted as he stood atop Meridian bridge with nothing but his spear. No one knows what company trained him, who showed him his mastery of sword and spear. Many have taken the credit, but none can touch a star without burning their hands on its light."

Aloy flicked down the text eagerly, losing her place and finding it again.

"The holding of Meridian was his beginning, his greatest accomplishment. Defending the bridge like a Scrapper grips his steel, the Sunspear beat back the invasion, cutting down rebel after rebel, protecting his Sun-King from certain doom had the merchant rebellion broken through."

Shocked so severely that her connection broke, Aloy started so suddenly that the cub jumped, alert and bristling, only to realise it was just his owner, and lay back down.

The merchant rebellion? She hadn't come across that in her searching. But the merchant class was civilians, men and woman, children being apprenticed, working dawn until dusk to give wears and provide shards. The Artisan's were no warriors and the forge masters were no tacticians. They were family men and woman, young children and dreamers in search of fame. The metal Flower merchant she often dealed with had given up his life of adventuring for his paramour. How could a love like that result in rebellion?

Meridian's pride was its civility, it's advanced metal work and laws over the 'savage east'. The Shadow Carja were spoiling that reputation, but to murder one's civilian population?

She opened the file back up. Surely there was a mistake, something that needed to be further explained.

"Sun-King Sidon, the Twelfth of his reign, believed in the ladder of success, and thus urged his citizens to do the same. He gifted titles and lordships to those who turned the profit, contributed to Meridian's economic standing. The forges burned, the craft shop’s teemed with life. It was truly a golden age of prosperity. Only shadow's lurk in the light of the sun, and behind their shop doors, the merchants plotted, ungrateful though it was their own inadequacy as craftsmen that doomed them."

Aloy wrinkled her nose, like just reading the text set off a bad smell. Titles and prosperity based on how much shards you made? It wasn't in the text, but Aloy could easily imagine the poverty that must have wracked Meridian as a result of the foolish system. She was no artist, and with the shards she wouldn't be making, another merchant would swoop in and buy anything she could have afforded, pushing her into homelessness and starvation faster than a Charger sprints.

"When the working classes rose up, Sidon fled into his Mesa, sealing the doors and posting his guards. Meridian was split between the greedy merchants and the nobles defending the titles they had earned." It might not have been the squirming red tendrils, but Aloy knew corruption when she saw it, palpable or not. "The Rebels out numbering the pure of Meridian ten-to-one, all hope was lost, if not for the Sunspear holding the bridge to the palace, protecting the just king Sidon."

The invasion. The tapestry hanging beside Avad's bed. The artwork before her now.

Aloy read and read, unable to tear her eyes away from the carnage across her screen. Hundreds of desperate civilians were slaughtered on that bridge and she nearly retched as she remembered each time she'd walked across those scuffed red stones before Helis and his Shadows had blown it to pieces. And it carried on. After the Sunspear staved off the rebel's, he took his men into the city and flushed the rest out, like rats, according to the text. He bribed the cowering lords to give him locations of their suppliers, then tortured the names of the lesser merchants they sold to out of them. He bought from lesser wards, then sicked his men upon the desperate stall owners that offered him their wears when they heard he was buying.

He let shards loose like blast bombs, and when the poor, the hungry, the homeless and the broken picked them up, the Sunspear waited for the devastation to follow in the wake of their explosions.

“ _Ever the strong are beset upon by the weak_ – as said by Sidon ‘s successor, Jiran, the Thirteenth of his reign, and declarer of the Sunspear.”

Exert date unknown – origin corrupted. File entered eighteen years previous.

Aloy ripped off her Focus with the ferocity of slamming a book closed. She stared up at the tapestry with disgust, almost tempted to rip the thing down or loose a fire arrow into the soft silk. How could a monster like that be revered by this cities people. She was shocked his name wasn’t the butcher, and found it no wonder that his legend was dying, spoken by only few that she knew. Avad only had the tapestry because he wanted to remember his father.

“Anything to say to that, GAIA?” Aloy asked, but received only silence.

Her desire to delve into history ruined, Aloy stood. She wanted to shoot something, preferably metal, her desire to actually kill non-existent after the gruesome document. The cub hefted itself to its feet. It now stood at her thigh, and could place its paws almost on her chest when it reared up for a head scratch of some fish. He was particular towards fish.

“Follow,” she instructed, though there wasn’t much need to. The cub would follow her wherever she went. It was simply a force of habit.

 

* * *

 

 

“That plan won’t work,” Sylens repeated for the eighth time, then proceeded to explain why this suggestion of wearing her kestrel armour would not get Aloy into Sunfall long enough to search through the Zero Dawn bunker – reminding her of what happened when Helis found her during the first exploration.

“How about you stop shooting my plans down and instead contribute?” the Nora hissed at him. Wearing her armour wouldn’t work. Sneaking in under cover of nightfall wouldn’t work. Escorting him back to Sunfall herself wouldn’t work.

Sylens, propped up by a mountain of pillows in his bed, sighed sufferingly, shifting the leg with the wounded ankle. “How about you stop coming up with plans that won’t work?” he jibed back. “Tell me, Aloy, why it is so hard for you to get into Sunfall. If you can’t think forwards, work it out backwards.”

She glared at him, and probably would have smacked him, had he not already been injured. The cub groaned, stretching out on the bed.

“The Shadow Carja know I favour Avad’s Sundom. They know I have worked with the Oseram, especially with Erend. I am also the one who took their god from them... well, I thought I had,” she tacked on at the end, her glare deepening pointedly.

Sylens paid it no attention. “You also participated in the liberation of their prince and saviour and murdered their leader.”

“That too.”

Sylens shifted again, wincing slightly. As annoying as he’d been about his ankle, Aloy knew the infirmity was getting the best of him. Although he’d never been part of her travels physically, he was an active hunter of knowledge, and having to have every speck of information Aloy found be brought to him was grating on him more than he would ever say.

“So why can’t I simply return with you to Sunfall?” she asked, knowing that hearing the sound of his own voice always made Sylens feel better, especially if he got to use his superior tone of voice.

As expected, Sylens rolled his eyes at the fairly reasonable question. “I have been here too long, and I participated in the rescue of the Sun-King. To bring a Nora, especially you, back with me to Holy Sunfall would be the end of my influence there. No, it cannot be me who brings you.”

“Then how do I get in?”

Three sharp knocks sounded at the door, Erend’s voice calling for Aloy before the second had landed, pushing through the doorway before he could be invited in. He nodded to Sylens, grinning in return to the unimpressed sneer Sylens shot him. If anyone was an expert at killing someone with kindness, it was Erend, and for all his intelligence, Aloy couldn’t help but laugh secretly with Erend as Sylens refused to understand what the Oseram was doing.

“Avad’s summoning us,” Erend said as a hello. He raised his eyebrows at Aloy’s look of surprise over the end of the five weeks Avad had spent sequestered in his chambers, taking council there with the envoys who had had the patience to remain after their questioning, and during the aftermath of the attack. “He wants all his council members present, and you.” He nodded to Sylens.

“What have I done now?” Sylens groaned, pushing up on the bed. At first he tried to refuse Aloy’s help, and managed to get to standing by himself. But only one step separated his pride from his logic, and he let Aloy take one of his arms across her shoulders.

Erend did not offer his help, turning and leading from the room. Derric was with him, and followed at the back of the procession, quiet and dutiful. The cub got up and cantered to Erend, huffing to his side, receiving a head scratch from the Oseram.

Thankfully, due to the severity of his injuries sustained in the rescue, Sylens’s room had been placed on the same floor as Avad’s. It meant no awkward struggle up or down stairs, but the short walk gave Aloy little time to prepare for what the meeting may hold. So far the track record hadn’t held well in their favour, and she found herself growing nervous the nearer they came to Avad’s chambers.

The doors were already open, and Aloy could see Vanasha inside, arms crossed as she leaned against the wall. Aloy entered and guided Sylens into the closest chair, taking in the rest of the room. Nasadi perched awkwardly on a chair, looking unsure as to why she was present when there were no envoy’s to see her. Marad was pacing before the bed, hands wringing, and Avad watched him with the bored interest of a man in healing who’s had nothing better to do for the better part of two months, so bored in fact, that his eyes lit up when Erend, Aloy and Sylens entered.

“Ah, everyone is present. Marad, please focus in,” he said, sitting up straighter in the large bed. Marad did as he was asked, looking like he didn’t appreciate the comment. Nasadi shifted uncomfortably, once again unsure if this was a normal occurrence of the more intimate meetings.

“While bound to this bed I have been taking meetings with the envoy’s.” Avad said as way of beginning the meeting. This was of course known by every member of the council, Vanasha and Marad intimately as they were the ones most present during these meetings. “I have listened to each of their concerns individually, some of them together with tribes they trade closely with.”

Aloy looked to Vanasha, but the woman’s face betrayed nothing to what Avad was speaking about, and her unease prickled along the backs of her shoulders, a feeling she got when entering a new machine territory blind.

“I have heard their pleas for peace, their arguments to be given the respect of their ancestors, and, most importantly, their passion for the people they hold dear.” He looked pointedly at Sylens then. “For most Carja tribes that includes all their people, not just the ones who can afford being treated like human beings.”

Sylens grimaced. “Are you really going to talk down to me after I shattered my ankle saving your life?”

“Dislocated,” Aloy corrected.

Sylens did not respond past another grimace, shifting in his chair.

Avad watched the exchange with calm patience, and when he was sure they were finished, he carried on. “While I have been healing and negotiating, I reflected on something brought to my attention.” He looked at each member of the room in turn. “I fill my chambers with your voices, with your opinions, your cultures and experiences, but I have not listened to any of them, especially you, Nasadi.”

The woman blinked at the man that was not her family, but treated her son like a brother, then smiled appreciatively and bowed her head to him.

Avad smiled. “I know I did not lend my ear well, but I believe that was a cue for you to say something, Nasadi.”

Nasadi blushed, her eyes going to the ground. “Forgive me, your Radiance. My years in Sunfall were made easiest when I was only seen and not heard. Speaking at such meetings is something I will need to get used to."

Avad's eyes twinkled. "I hope it does not take you long, for I will need your voice on my behalf while I am away."

Aloy straightened up immediately. Beside the bed, Marad's hands began wringing again. Vanasha's face remained unchanged. When no one spoke, it was Erend who took it upon himself to ask the question on all their minds.

"Where are you going?"

"To Sunfall."

Sylens choked, sparing Aloy the embarrassment of almost snapping in alarm. Erend's eyes bugged and Nasadi went very still. Avad watched each reaction in turn, accounting the worst and the most relaxed, and tried a comforting smile towards Nasadi.

"Why the hell do you want to go to Sunfall?" Erend spluttered. 

"Many reasons," Avad answered. "For the past weeks I have negotiated privately with the envoys and we have come to a terse arrangement, one I waited until the rest had agreed to before I presented it to the envoy from Sunfall."

Sylens snorted at the title, and went to retort with something snide, so Aloy elbowed him. He appreciated it about as much as Marad did being singled out, but didn't say anything in response. Instead he looked to Avad. "What is your arrangement?"

"Slavery is still banned in all the Sundom," Avad started, no room for argument in his tone. "But your noblemen have a choice. Either pay their slaves thirty five percent of a decent wage, or have a fifty percent increase on their taxes by next quarter."

Sylens' eyes widened. "They won't like either option, your Radiance."

Avad was undeterred. "Well, they will have to choose what is more important. Their traditions, or the size of their purses."

Aloy felt her lips twitch upwards at Avad's smooth confidence. Whoever had the nerve to call him a weak King would recant the statement. Even crippled, trapped in a bed and still healing, Avad claimed more authority than anyone. Aloy would never back just anybody. When Resh was made interim war chief of the Nora she fought him through every step of his short reign. But she believed in Avad, she had for a long time, and it was moments like this, where he held his resolve, fought and fought, but still knew when compromise was best for his people. where she was reminded just why he held her trust so securely.

"I hope you have something to offer the nobles of Sunall in return for these terms," Sylens said, trying to seem nonchalant, but Aloy could see him shifting restlessly. "I can't imagine how you managed to persuade the other tribes to this deal."

"Simple," Avad said as lightly as Sylens was trying to seem. "I re-opened the Sun Pits"

"But, your Radiance," Nasadi protested. For someone not used to speaking up, she was starting off with a bang. "You've fought for years to close them down."

Avad nodded solemnly. "I know, and in my fight I became as stubborn as the lone man with a sword thinking he can take on the world. It was not an easy decision to make, but some envoy's made some good points, as did my council members."

Aloy didn't remember giving much advice on the pits, or even being approached, though she didn't have much experience with the traditions of them. Her only knowledge was when Helis tossed her in weaponless against a Behemoth, and if all matches were that easily won, she didn't understand what the problem was. Though Avad was looking pointedly towards Vanasha now, so Aloy could easily guess where the bulk of the council had come from.  
  
Avad shifted higher. “I agreed to their term to re-open the pits, but only under one condition. No slave will ever be forced to fight in the arena's. Freedmen and Fighting men only. If any slave is forced, the owner will be executed without trial."

Sylens considered Avad for a long moment. “Well... I’m surprised by you, your Radiance.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Sylens let a small smile show, while the rest of the room looked on confused. All except Vanasha and Marad.

“By cornering the nobles into paying their slaves, they’ll be more inclined to accept his offer,” Vanasha said, speaking for the first time, snorting and shaking her head. “No sense harming their property now that they have to pay for them.”

“All winning fighters must also be given half of what is bet upon them, for their troubles,” Marad added, looking a little more settled now that the room seemed to be on board with the plan.

“That’s nice and all,” Erend grumbled stepping into the centre of the room. “But why does that require you to go to Sunfall?”

“I must make an appearance at the re-opening,” Avad explained. “A sign of good faith to the Shadow Carja. But... there is more.” He regarded every member of the room carefully, eyes trained on each of theirs. They lingered on Sylens the longest, the outsider to his council, and his Kingdom. “I have not heard from Uthid since he departed for Sunfall, and I was worried that something had happened to him. My suspicions were confirmed by the return of his Captain, Taeko. They were ambushed by the Shadow Carja while trying to arrange passage back to Meridian. Taeko confirmed that only he and two others made it out. Uthid’s fate is unknown.”

From the corner, Vanasha’s breath hitched.

Avad glanced at her, then addressed the room once more. “So I must go to Sunfall.” He cleared his throat, casting Sylens another cautious look. “I have other business that requires me to be there, and once I am healed enough to travel I shall set forth with an escort of fifty Guard and-”

“Take me as an envoy,” Aloy cut off, stepping to Avad’s bedside.  Avad blinked up at her, his momentum gone.

“Aloy,” Erend protested. “You just got here.”

“And I need to get to Sunfall,” Aloy countered, not looking away from Avad. In his corner, Sylens leaned forward, watching with deep interested eyes. “I know it’s not your priority, Avad, but there’s a bunker in Sunfall and it could bring us closer to finding out where Koa came from.”

The cub at her side cocked his head up, recognising the name.

“Koa?” Sylens asked, the same time Erend’s face split into a grin as he looked down at the panting cub. “Of all the things you could have called the animal, you chose a Nora word?”

“Why wouldn’t she pick a Nora word?” Erend snapped at him, then turned to Aloy. “What’s it mean?”

“We’re getting off topic,” Aloy said instead. “Zero Dawn is the home of the Sub-functions. Inside could be the secret to finding Artemis, finding where Koa came from and finding more like him.”

“Brilliant, Aloy,” Sylens said, leaning further forward in his excitement. “Do as she says, Sun-King, and I can finally go home.”

Avad lifted an eyebrow at the dark skinned man. “That will depend on Nasadi, not you.”

All eyes turned to the nerve wracked woman in the corner. Her eyes were wide, shoulders curled inwards as she wrung her fingers nervously against her chest. “I-I’m not sure. I’ve never-”

“Nasadi,” Avad said, cutting her off softly. “I am asking you to do this because I have faith in you. You were the only one by Itamen’s side during all Bahavis put you two through in Sunfall. Every meeting, every council that required his face, you were there. You may not have spoken, but you have a voice.” He nodded to Marad, who went to Nasadi’s side, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Marad will be with you every day and the Guards are yours to command, within reason.”

Nasadi fingers slowed, looking at Avad for any sign of doubt, but could find none in his cool, deep gaze, and it finally coaxed a shaky smile out of her. “I will do my best.”

“That is all I can ask,” Avad said, then leaned back, looking to his Vanguard Captain. “Erend, I want your four best men with me.”

Erend straightened. “Done, your Radiance. Derric and I know two guys who-”

“You’re staying in Meridian,” Avad cut off.

“Avad!” Erend protested, dropping all formalities. “You can’t be serious?”

“As a plague,” Vanasha said. “We’ll need Guards in Sunfall, not one of our most trusted political minds.”

“But you get to go,” Erend demanded.

“I have connections in Sunfall from my time there,” Vanasha said in way of answer, arms crossed.

Erend’s jaw tightened. Outnumbered and against the wall, he looked to Aloy for support, but she gave him a small shake of her head. Her focus was finding Artemis, and she knew that if Erend wasn’t Guarding Avad, he’d be following her around. She didn’t doubt he’d be professional, she even trusted him to keep away from the Sunfall taverns and winery’s, but this was an in-out mission, a week tops, and the less people they had with them, the better.

When he realised nothing was coming, Erend’s eyes narrowed. “Fine. I’ll go get your Guards, your Radiance.” He turned on his heel and stalked from the room, Derric blinking in confusion as his Captain stomped past him.

Avad sighed, lifting his uninjured arm to rub his eyes. Aloy waited patiently for him to re-gather his composure, knowing she had been the one to interrupt it. But her skin thrummed, her fingers itched. Her eyes caught Sylens’, the same spark she knew was in her eyes reflected back in his.

Avad straightened, Kingly authority back. Every whisper in the room stopped. “Prepare yourselves,” he said. “In three weeks, we travel to Sunfall.”

 

**The End of Part One**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://ko-fi.com/A17123XG)
> 
> [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A17123XG)


	14. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I know its been a while and I gotta say I can't predict if it's gonna be consistent. I got a book on the go that's starting to pick up speed and I'm starting a new career as a Personal Trainer. 
> 
> But your support has been phenomenal. You're insightful, you're dedicated and patient. I even started an email folder of all my favourite comments from you guys to keep me going.
> 
> Anywho, here we go again and I hope you like it, guys!

I One

 

It Never Ends

Description: Log

Modification: Voice

Between Me and God

Length: 1:32

Data Corruption: Partial

 

...never understand. None of them will ever understand. They’re already sick, nothing can cure it once it gets you. It’s the worst sickness of all. Worse than a plague or a cancer. It crawls through your skin and clogs your veins. How else can the brain become so sluggish if it doesn’t have its blood? It needs it, and without it, without the air and the knowledge and the thought it becomes stupid. They become stupid and blind and it all starts over again and, God!

Ignorance. It’s disgusting.

It’s a disease.

It must be stopped. If it can’t be cured then it must be destroyed. It’s too late for any infected. Once it gets you it doesn’t let go. They must be destroyed, even if I have to do it myself. I must, before it becomes too much. I failed before but I know now. I can change it and make it right.

I will act.

I am God’s Left Hand.

 

 

Decay shadowed Mira's steps down the metal corridor. It premeditated, predicted and watched her make her way down the desolate blackness, illuminated in flashes by lights that sputtered worse than any coughs brought on by winter's chill. But to Mira the tunnels were all the same, and it was not her first trip down the hollow halls. 

“Creepy city,” Mira whispered, her voice booming back at her. She wrinkled her nose, rethinking it. “Creepy cavern? Creepy bunker?” She shook her head. Creepy was creepy, the definition of the space was not going to lessen the chills running down her back.

Her Focus lit the up the dark, an eerie purple shadow guiding her way down the hall. She hadn't been long down these's halls. Her explorations of the passages had been limited. Time was too short, the months slipping by faster than she could realize. A year gone. Then another. She thought she'd be pulling her hair out by now.

Rosn kept her busy. He insisted she refer to him that way. Titles were important, Mira, he'd say in his accented voice that made Mira think of shorelines, you don't ask for it to be yours, you make it yours. 

Mira didn't know what she could be called. Finder? Seeker? Scavenger felt more appropriate, or Skulker as she made her way down the murky hallways. The passages between the rooms had obviously been designed to be void of hiding places, the walls smooth and metallic, not a shelf or cubby in sight. If she had time she'd stop and study to frame work, how the builder's slotted each flat sheet of metal together inside the vast mountain. It may be flat and smooth, but anything inside the mountain fascinated Mira. 

Rosn told her not to bother with the mountain. It was an abomination whose shadow they were forced to live within, he called it a curse upon the people. 

But the mountain also shaded them from the storms and kept them safe. She never understood why Rosn hated the mountain so much but she did her best to respect his wishes. 

Within reason. 

Another shaft of luminous purple shade cut across the corridor ahead. Mira entered it, her Focus warm against her ear as the metal was bathed in light. Her eyes flinched as the true vastness of the chamber blinded her. She blinked back the purple spots and rubbed at her grey eyes until some semblance of sight returned to her. 

The walls curved over her head, a yawning mouth that met in the point at the back of the throat, disappearing further into the darkness above, so high even the light couldn't reach it. Little bulbs, winking purple stars in the dark, ran in lines up the arching walls. Some were dim and gaps sprang sporadically across the walls, turning the pinpricks into gatherings, violet constellations across the forever ebony sky. Mira remembered making her way through other bunker's across the continent, and realized now that none of them came close to the cavernous chamber ensconced within the earth. 

She didn’t have long. If she dallied the others would notice her absence. With so little to do these days it wasn’t hard for the abnormal to float above the radar. But still, despite its creepiness, this place still amazed Mira.

“Oh, what secrets you could tell me,” she whispered, her breath misting before her.

What secrets indeed. But she wasn’t here to find those, not yet anyway. Rosn had asked her to retrieve a compound he needed for his work. She was his last assistant. She used to go under apprentice but now the title felt wrong.

_Make it yours._

She hadn’t made it hers, not yet anyway. She doubted she had enough time to truly earn it, let alone surpass it and become the head of the line. She wanted it, more than anything, but Rosn had taught her that wanting and earning were not the same thing. He also hated this place like a second hell, so she was always sent in for the favours, errands and anything else he could think of to avoid coming here.

For now, he wanted proof. He didn’t believe Mira. It wasn’t so much his usual errand, and he hadn’t explicitly asked her to come here, but she needed him to see that something was wrong. No, wrong implied that it had already happened, that she’d failed before even figuring it out.

No. Something wasn’t right, which meant it could go wrong if something didn’t change.

But she couldn’t predict when it would happen, or how. She could not go into the future, so for now she’d need to go back, look for something that would prove her point before it was too late.

“When in doubt, look under stuff.” She crossed the room, dust kicking up with every step, and came upon a table. A trail of finger prints dragged across the surface, four tracks swirling, racing each other, falling short as the length of finger trailed out so that eventually the middle finger lay victorious with the third coming up close behind. The dust prints were already starting to fill back in. Other’s had been this way. She wasn’t surprised that she wasn’t the only one.

She grunted as she lowered herself to her knees. She was twenty six and felt sixty, especially when her knees creaked. Her legs got stiff too easily. Too much sitting not enough walking. It was the new smoking; sitting around would eventually kill her. She got down on her hands and knees, then lower still, pressing her chest to the ground and reaching under the table. She skimmed through grime and even more dust, her arm coming back coated in grey and somehow feeling greasy yet it wasn’t damp.

Mira shivered in revulsion but pushed on, going through every nook and cranny. The dust yielded nothing so she stood, wiped herself clean as best she could and moved to the chairs. Their sweep revealed nothing either and by the end she was covered from head to foot in dust, cobwebs and the strange dampness of grime that covered everything. It clung to her like a second skin and no amount of wiping could lean it off. She lashed at her skin, clawed and scrubbed until she was raw and grunting from the effort, her frustration mounted and spitting until she turned and slammed her foot into one of the toppled over chairs. 

It sailed high, over the railing of the raised seating area and across the dark expanse like a cobweb covered shooting star, crashing down into a pile of crates dumped against a wall, collapsing the entire unbalanced structure. Mira winced, took a step towards the chaos and cursed at the pain blossoming in her foot. 

Someone might have heard that. It would be hard not to even after how far down she'd come. She hobbled over to the pile of crates and the chair, her big toe throbbing.

"Crap, crap, crap on a platter," she muttered with every step, because saying ow made it hurt more. 

The chair was in pieces, the back snapped clean off and buried inside the caved wall of a crate. Some of the other crates had splintered, the supposedly life long durability of their plastic casings measuring up to nothing after being left for so long. 

Mira began to stack them, hoping she could make them look like they had before, already mentally preparing to lie through her teeth and say she'd found them this way. She stacked the splintered crates so that the scuffed sides faced the wall. The other sides looked untouched aside from some smears in their dust coatings. Mira hoped those would fill in before anyone came to this section of the mountain. She pried the chair back out of the last crate, planning to stash it somewhere, and lifted the last crate.

Something small and rectangular tumbled out of the gaping hole, bounced off her chest and clattered to the ground.

Mira staged the final crate, though not as well as she had with the others, too excited with the find. The moment her Focus was pointed at it the device identified it as a datapoint - an audio one, and she scooped it up. Her ear warmed as the Focus revved to life and-

A door beeped, a blue glow flashing as a door opened somewhere from the other side of the cavernous room. Footsteps, slow and heavy from knowing this mountain couldn’t possibly be occupied, walked unhurriedly into the room.

Mira froze, pressing the datapoint to her chest. She couldn’t see the light of the persons Focus. Had they taken it off? They must be coming from the back, blocked by the corridors and other stacks of crates. She bolted without giving it much thought, hoping her steps were light as she scuttled away, disappearing through a doorway and into the black beyond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://ko-fi.com/A17123XG)
> 
> [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A17123XG)


	15. Part Two: Aloy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> As the second part to this fic commences, I feel I deserve you all an explanation and a physical writ of thanks.
> 
> I have been working very hard on a novel I believe might take me beyond the web and onto the page. It is my passion project. I am also in the beginning of a new career as a Personal Trainer. But it is no excuse to leave you all hanging after beginning my work, so here, today, I promise to get out at least one chapter a month, two if I am not too busy.
> 
> Leading into the next point, I have to say that I do not deserve the best readership I have ever had in a fanfiction piece. I wish I could thank you all personally with a hug. 
> 
> No+Name, your support and resulting friendship has been phenomenal and life changing. Without you I would have no Kofi account or proof reader for my novel. Everything you've done for me has only improved my being as a writer, and I will never be able to thank you enough.
> 
> PassingWingsoo, you were right there from the start and are still with me now. You asked for more and that lit a fire right in my gut. Your comments fuelled me to keep going and I hope you're still with me now because if you're not, I've truly lost someone special
> 
> Nickoli, one of my first commentators on this piece and one of my personal favourites, saved in my email and all. The part where you thought it would make a great Game Sequel made me smile bigger than I ever have in my life. It was that first kick up my butt that kept me plugging on.
> 
> Isis_the_Sphinx, you called me out on a chapter you disagreed with, you were calm, constructive and insightful to your opinions and justified each one beautifully. I love this in writing and receiving feedback. The debate and discussion side and I pray I find more like you in the future.
> 
> queenofkadara, you came late to the game at chapter fourteen but I'm so happy that you found your way here. I missed out on chapter by chapter comments, but learning my work is downloadable, to be that desired, made up for anything you could have said about the work, and your excitement over more than one part made me grin like the Cheshire cat.
> 
> Elaine, you're constant, constructive, enthusiastic, and supportive, and I look forward to updating every time just so I can see what you have to say. You're not afraid to speak your mind about my work and I crave your honesty with each update. 
> 
> Raven, I'm not sure who you are as a reviewer but you buy me Kofi's and I appreciate every one!
> 
> In closing, I will never be able to express my gratitude to you all, so the best I can do is make sure you always feel as valued and appreciated as you deserve to be, and I can start with a regular updates.

Part Two

*

 

Every step towards Sunfall seemed to increase the heat on the stale, flat air, footfall by footfall, degree by degree. A thrown stone would ripple the air like the shattered surface of a pond in whatever direction you looked and the weight of it would sit on your skin and spread its heat like infection from a wound. Sweat would seek out dust and paste itself to any crevice and cranny, trenches of grit grinning darkly like smile lines on a coal-miners face.

Aloy trudged through this heat, feeling her lightest travel tunic shift then slap back against her sweat soaked back with every step, the stitched, light cloth darkened to a deep, muddy brown in one large dark patch stretching from between her shoulder blades down to her lower back. Tied around her neck and swaying across her front the blue silk kerchief swayed, partly to pull up and shield her mouth from the erratic dust storms that swept down without warning, mostly to conceal from the rest of her party the twin sweat patches spreading out from under her breasts.

She adjusted the travel pouch at her hip to mask the scratch she gave to a tickling spot to her sticky lower back. Up front, strolling with the honour guard, Avad chatted with the men. He was attempting to lift their wilted spirits with jokes and stories, which they laughed along with, and only in part because he was their king. Aloy knew he could be charming, and even funny at times, mostly after Erend had dragged him to one of the more regal Wine houses, but she could hear the forced tones of the Guard’s laughter from her spot at the mid-rear of the procession.

Amidst their convoy plodded half a herd of Strider’s, veins of blue roping around their necks and down into their chests, the overridden twisting through their bodies like a pulsing soul, the difference between calm, raging, docile, demonic, blue or red. They carried supplies so the guards could walk unencumbered, and Avad had no slaves to do the carrying, so Aloy had taken the initiative to commandeer an easier way to travel.

Vanasha showed none of the trepidation the soldiers tried to hide as they dodged around the metallic hoof prints. Astride her mount, Vanasha rocked back and forth to the easy pace set by the fleet, as at home on the mount like she was back in the gardens atop the mesa looking through her reports of the day and sipping honeyed milk. Aloy had opted to walk, partly because she was fed up with sweating in three places instead of just two, and also because she knew even if she tried her hardest, she’d never look as good atop a mount as Vanasha, so decided she’d be the walking queen instead of the riding one.

Sylens’ Strider clopped along beside Vanasha’s. The Banuk was flipping through the pages of a notebook he never let off his person. Beside a campfire on the fourth nights stop he had shared with Aloy the documentation of his discoveries, from the first moment he’d switched his Focus on, to their final confrontation in GAIA’s Prime mountain six years ago. All the information was stored in his Focus, but Sylens insisted that nothing was like holding it in your hand. He rode his Strider awkwardly but not unpractised, a grimace every time he kicked its side to spur it forwards lifting the curtain his stoicism was trying to conceal his supposedly recovered ankle.

They had already a left a week late, she could understand his restlessness, participated in many uncomfortable rides herself just to get moving again, the need to feel like she was headed somewhere, instead of listing at a place that was not her home, an unbearable pull deep in her gut that only an open track and a pack full of arrows could cut free.

Blue light flashed across her vision, sudden and sharp, and when she turned her head, Koa whizzed by in a lumbering blur of brown and shaggy waving fur. He was too big to carry now, and getting bigger every day. She couldn’t lift him at all, but when he stood up onto his hind legs he could put his paws on her shoulders and lick her chin with his expanding pink tongue. The blue light flashed again, making Aloy wince and stumble as her foot turned on a rock. A voice in her ear giggled and the blue light flowed languid and translucent before her eyes.

She knew it came from her Focus. GAIA had been acting up, but not in ways she was expecting. It seemed she’d given up trying to talk to Aloy and was pushing her efforts into becoming physical again, but it had an almost degenerative effect on her intelligence. She reminded Aloy now of a mischievous little girl, playing tricks with her vision. She’d hoped GAIA would see her efforts were fruitless, she couldn’t even recreate her true physical form, but as she turned her head to try and find Koa, GAIA zipped in front of her so suddenly she jumped.

GAIA giggled again, nothing more than a ribbon of light. Aloy cursed. GAIA was a super intelligent human made creation that rebuilt the earth from the rotating dust crater it had been driven to by its previous race, and she had been reduced to playing pranks.

"Sun too bright?" Sylens called down from his mount, choosing the one time to look up from his little book to see her stumble.

"You're Banuk," she shot back. "You've seen snow blind hunters."

"Indeed," Sylens agreed. "A glint of sunlight on metal is nothing to the fire it can burn on snow. No matter how strong these machine become, it seems nature will always take her due." Aloy didn't respond because she already knew that, growing up in a cabin with only Rost and no other to teach her how cruel nature could really be. Sylens eyed her in his squinty, 'I don't believe anything unless I come to the conclusion myself', way. "So, why did you stumble?"

"Didn't see the rock," Aloy said with a shrug, pointedly kicking another out of her path. She used that pretext to avoid looking at Sylens. She didn't want to tell him about GAIA's regression, or the silly way she was trying to communicate with her. She didn't trust him not to try and take advantage of it, sneak through her fractured mind and reprogram her to his will. If he could do it to an entire Focus network to spy on her memories, he would find a way to do it to GAIA. Luckily, this time, Aloy was the one with the upper hand.

"Indeed," he repeated, and said no more.

Aloy felt a prickle along the back of her neck. Maybe he wasn't pushing because he already knew? Was GAIA trying to speak to him as well? Was she in every Focus, trying to squirm her way out? Aloy had seen no sign of Sylens being any more dismissive or secretive than normal. He wasn't acting like he was trying to hide anything. Maybe in his attempt to fix GAIA, he'd set her free without realising it.

"Aloy." Sylens' voice was so sudden she almost jumped, but managed to keep a better hold of herself than when GAIA became playful. "Come here a moment."

It wasn’t a request, but she approached without a fuss. His ankle was still bandaged, nestled in a riding boot of her own design to cushion the impact of the swaying metal beast. He'd resented having to wear it, but after a day she could see the rigid cords in his back had loosened from holding in his pain.

He reached down, offering her his little book, thumb keeping it on the page he had been studying. When Aloy took it she saw the page was headed in his neat Banuk glyphs  _Zero Dawn - Artemis._

"You found something already?" she asked, scanning the words on the page while simultaneously watching where she was walking.

"More a fragment that might lead to a path that might lead to something," he said down to her. "There were many sections of the bunker you did not have time to fully explore down there that might be a way in." He didn't say it derisively. He'd known just as badly as she how the Eclipse had been on her heels, nipping and biting like corrupted Scrapper's until they'd finally cornered her in the control room. "I've managed to isolate some of the markings on the walls from the feed your Focus sent to mine-don't give me that look, you knew I was watching while you were down there. I guided you through those tunnels- anyway, some of the markings suggest where the specific Alpha's were working before they were moved to GAIA's prime facility in the mountain."

Aloy shivered as the shrivelled corpses came back to her in a rush, the dust of their bones, their skin, the last moments of their lives washing over her as that door opened one thousand years later.

"You think you've isolated the right tunnels?" Aloy asked.

Sylens huffed. "I haven't had the chance to narrow it down. I have four that are strong causes for me to think it will lead us to anything on Artemis. The sub-functions worked in tandem as well as separately. Something will lead to something else, and so on."

"Worked last time," Aloy agreed, handing him back his book. "We're only a few days out from Sunfall, it's good you came prepared."

This time his snort was derisive. "Naturally." He didn't speak as he tucked his notebook into his breast pocket, but Aloy could hear him clearing his throat, umming and ahhing, like he was trying to decide how to begin his next train of thought. Finally he settled on, "About Sunfall..."

"What about it?" She felt that same tightness in her gut that she got when she was stalking a machine, waiting for the right moment to strike, knowing it could turn and spot her at any moment if she let herself be distracted.

"You might want to think about how you're going to... present yourself while we are there."

She glared up at him. "Present myself?"

"Well, you have to admit you're not exactly courtly."

"I think you mean stuck up, Sylens," Aloy spat. Men and woman raised to be courtly disgusted her. They danced around issues, thinking their passive aggressive subtlety made them clever, when it only made making one decision take hours. It was why Aloy loved having Uthid's direct nature in Avad's council. The man could still move as gracefully as a cat, but his approach was as straight forward as a Behemouth's charge.

"All I'm saying," Sylens tried to placate, but already sounded like he knew he would fail. "Is that while you're around the nobility you could act a little more like a Carja."

"I'm not a Carja," she reminded him. "I'm a Nora, and yet still an envoy of the king."

"Who should understand after being one for six years that representation of a people, and pushing forward with your own ideals, are two separate things." Sylens adjusted himself on his mount. The Strider gave a whiny. "Look, when you're in the Banuk lands do you wear your summer clothes?"

Aloy shook her head. "I actually like having all my fingers and toes."

"Well if you bull your way through the meetings in front of the nobility you'll probably have to say goodbye to some of them," Sylens said. "You're in their den, on their terrain. Dress for the weather, Aloy, learn to stalk and hunt the prey."

"Play their games, you mean." She could feel the anger boiling inside her, hotter than the air around her. The Strider whickered again and moved without Sylens' consent, stamping its foot nervously in the wake of Aloy's energy. "You want me to be more like them? Snider? Greedier? Crueller? More interested in what silks I'll wear for lunch than the starving on the streets?"

Sylens looked at her flatly. "It would be ideal. It will also stop you from becoming a pariah. I assume you want to be able to blend in right? Last time you were in Sunfall you made quite a spectacle."

"I  _was_ the spectacle!" she snapped. Up front some heads turned towards them. All except Avad's, who stared rigidly forwards. He'd never speak to her in this way and would offer Sylens no support. Unfortunately, Vanasha had no such reservations, and reined in beside Sylens to look down upon the fuming Aloy.

"And I was a spy who spirited the heir from their clutches and participated in the murder of their priest to save a condemned man, yet I am still going back, and know that I must play my part as well."  

"That's-"

  
“Uthid went back," Vanasha cut off sharply, mounted over Aloy, the sun casting a fierce sheen across her coal skin. She made a point to say his name, like the act of breathing it into the world was keeping him a part of the living. "and played diplomat to all their games. He went back, donned the robes, put aside his sword and spear and everything that made him feel safe."

But Aloy already felt pushed, and wanted to dig in her heels. Being guilted tipped her over the edge. "Fine. You want me to be more Carja. It shouldn’t be hard." She broke off and switched on her Focus. 

" _Oohh_ ," a feminine voice giggled from her Focus. “ _Hehehe_.”

 _Not now,_ Aloy thought stubbornly. She focused on her surroundings. The stark purple outlines of the soldier's, guards and travellers of their fleet stood out on the dry packed road, walking on oblivious, or pointedly ignoring, the Nora's gaze. They weren’t her targets anyway so she ignored them right back, searching the area, picking through the high cliffs and stone arches that littered the road to Sunfall.

A flash of horned yellow shot out from behind a low ridge. The Broadhead’s splashed through the low brook, water flying as they charged without seeing in their flight to get away. One found a foot hole in the stream and went back over front into the bank, its metal body crumpling against the hard packed earth. It thrashed in the water, trying to get its legs back under itself, only to buckle again when an arrow sprouted suddenly from the joint of its knee.

Yelling figures burst from behind the ridge, jumping down from atop the rock formation, rounding the north face to cut off the ones trying to double back and escape. The Broadhead limped back into the stream, fighting to escape, but the hunters were already closing in. They jabbed at it with their spears to keep it in the water, disoriented and slipping.

Aloy broke from the convoy, leapt the wall and sprinted for the stream. She would break that Broadhead and take the trophy for herself from those hunters. What could be more Carja than that? She might even be able to get them to thank her for her efforts.

She plunged into the stream, throwing up water in a shower, soaking the hunters with their backs to her. She rushed through the back, spear hefted above her head for the killing blow. Shouts of alarm went up around her as the hunters realized their prize was about to be poached.

One shout roared above the rest, then Aloy couldn't see, the sun itself falling into her eyes. She fumbled in the stream, going down to her knees to then be overturned by the current, body flying back in time to see a shape leap from the top of the ridge. One end of the spear sparkled from the sunlight, throwing rays off the way firelight hits ice, a beam striking across Aloy's vision. The hunter fell towards the river in a blur, stilly screaming the war cry as it plummeted. They were going to dash himself against the rocks. The stream wasn't deep enough to break the fall.

The spear went right through the Broadhead's shoulder blades, down through its chest and exploded in a shower of metal out into the rock bed. It bent under the hunters weight, his body curled so tightly his ankles almost brushed the water, then shot him straight back up into the sky. Aloy had seen Banuk hunters cross the great ice clefts in such a way, burying long poles into the snow and vaulting across the gaps. She'd seen Carja scouts do the same, leaping the canyons that speared through their lands.

She'd never seen it used to hunt.

The hunter landed, cat like in the water, barely making a splash. When he straightened he stood taller than his spear, rivulets of water running between the pimpled gooseflesh across the glimpses of his broad chest between the folds of a fitted deep red jerkin that was slit open at the front, his skin cast a deep copper in the approaching evening sunlight.

He pulled his spear free from the Broadhead’s corpse in one solid tug. “Horns are mine.”

The rest of the carnage unclaimed, the other hunters dived for the goods rushing away downstream. The man made no move to gather his horns. They were still attached to the machines skull and he was so sure none of the others would steal his prize, and indeed it seemed they wouldn’t. None even went near the head so long as his hard, flinty eyes were on them.

Until they were on Aloy, glinting behind the obsidian mask of metals so folded over she couldn’t tell what machine it had come from, and she watched them widen as they looked upon her sopping, bedraggled form slumped against the riverbank. She watched something rock through the man. No. Whatever it was didn’t just surprise him, it staggered him, like one particularly hard rush of water could take the feet out from under him. In that moment, if she asked him for his name she doubted he’d be able to tell her.

“Al-” he choked on the word, swallowing thickly.

“What?”  she demanded, puffing a wet strand of orange hair from her face.

The hunter blinked, grunting back a rough, “What?” as he came back to himself.

“What? What?” she snapped derisively, struggling up with as much dignity as she could from the river bank. “Is that the only word you know?”

“What?” the hunter said again, only his smirk made her realise he was the one mocking her, eyes glinting behind his mask.

Aloy wanted to scream, but Nora’s screamed and drew spears. That method would solve this right now, but that wasn’t Carja. She was going to give these hunters a sharp wake-up from their self-obsessed, arrogant society.

She tossed her wet hair from her face and rolled her shoulders back. When she tipped her chin up to face the hunter, she gave him her best, haughty, superior look. “You owe me a debt of thanks.”

Now the hunter did look confused. “What?”

Aloy rolled her eyes. “I really don’t have time for this.” She turned to the other hunters. “Can one of you translate? I don’t speak monosyllable.”

None of them attempted to speak up, shifting awkwardly as they looked between the man who was clearly their leader and this particularly insistent Nora.

The hunter she had been talking to cleared his throat. “Explain,” he demanded.

Something about the way he was speaking made that old prickle on the back of Aloy’s neck stand on edge. His voice was too low to be natural, like the travelling actors who retold the stories of the Anointed against Hades, or he had survived a deep and agonising torture by the Shenoah clan. They favoured pouring concoctions of burning poisons down their victims throats. The way he chose his words gave her pause as well.

“I helped down this machine,” she said, adopting the same manner as the hunter.

“So?” he said, folding his arms across his chest, the skin already dry in the blistering Carja heat.

“ _So_ ,” she mocked in his voice, sloshing closer in the thigh high water. “half this kill belongs to me, and I will not leave without it.”

“You’ll be wet.”

“Oh, so you can speak in sentences,” she growled snarkily at him, because even pretending to be a Carja couldn’t quell how she’d always spoken.

But he didn’t rise to it, raising a thin black eyebrow down at her. “My group tracked this herd. These men cornered it, broke spears and arrows on its casing to get at the metals underneath. We brought it down and we are claiming our armour.”

“Irrelevant,” Aloy sniffed. It seemed she would have to do something she never thought she would. It made her sick to even think about doing it, so she knew it was definitely Carja. “I am the Anointed of the Nora, saviour of the three clans and the lands beyond. I travel as an envoy with Sun-King Avad, and I am _entitled_ to my claim on this hunt.”

The dark eyes widened behind the mask. “The Sun-King is here?” and suddenly his whole demeanour changed, his body adopting a lazy stance while something sinister dawned in the curve of his lips. “Well, from what I saw up on that ridge you did a lot of shoving, a lot of falling, but not a lot of hunting, Nora. I didn’t see your spear land, or you get off a shot. If the Sun-King is near then I hope he has his Justice of the King with him, because what we saw was criminal.” The men around them laughed, and the hunter smirked down at her, but she could see it was starting to become strained, like he wanted this to be over and done with.  “So, to keep you from starving, and because I’m starting to get bored of whatever this is, I will throw you a bone. The men have claimed their prizes. Claim yours and go, Anointed.”

The only thing left of the Broadhead was the horns, and claiming his prize for herself after the hunter had given her the chance to show him up would only prove how petty she had become, though she was pretending to be Carja, so technically she was triumphant in her mission, but he didn’t know that, and right now, mission be damned.

“Boots,” she demanded, pointing to his submerged feet.

His brow furrowed, pushing the mask forwards a little, exposing a mop of sweat slicked curly black hair plastered to his forehead. “You want my boots?”

“Between taking shots at my hunting, you stated that I could claim any prize I wanted.” She lifted one leg from the water to show him a water logged, ruined rabbit skin moccasin clinging to her milky, slim leg, which his eyes lingered on longer than she liked. As she lowered the leg back into the water she made a point to kick some at his face. “Well, you ruined my shoes, so I claim your boots.”

“I’m not giving you my boots,” the hunter stated flatly as he wiped the water from his face.

“Send her packing, Shade,” one of the other hunters grumbled.

Aloy turned sharply on the one who spoke. “Speak again and I’ll poke you so full of holes this river could run _through_ you,” she snarled, and the hunter ducked back, almost slipping back against the bank he didn’t realise was right behind him. Aloy turned back to her original target without so much as a smirk, her eyes boring icily into his flinty ones. "One more insult to my station and I-"

"You'll what?" the hunter cut off. "Bring the might of the Sun-King down upon us?"

Koa decided then to crash through the circle of hunters and into the river bed, sending up sheets of water as he stumbled and roared his way to Aloy's side. The bear snarled as the hunters righted themselves and started yelling to form up. One tried to jab at him with his spear point. One swat from his thick paw split the shaft in two, and the pointed tip disappeared down the river.

Aloy grabbed him by the scruff, holding him still as she allowed a triumphant smirk up at the hunter. "Something along those lines."

Koa bared long, pointed fangs.

The hunter had the sense to tense up but he did not move, or reach for his spear or the white plated bow strapped to his back. "We will relent an apology," he stated, never taking his eyes off of Koa.

"No apology. Boots."

He looked ready to bark at her again, but thought better of it after looking down at the strange, snarling creature before her. His lip lifted in a sneer, but he leaned down, reaching for the heel of his boot.

"What's going on here?"

Every head turned to the voice. Avad, astride a machine that snorted and stomped, loomed over them from the bank of the stream, staring down at the mess of hunters and his envoy with a mix of confusion and irritation. Beside him, Vanasha and his guard stood in a tight circle, and Aloy resented the power move. She was handling the situation, she didn't need to be rescued, and the last thing she wanted was Avad finding out about her little proving.

The hunters fell to their knees, all but the flinty eyed one who had one boot half the way off. He slid it back on, smirking up at Aloy as he righted himself. She wanted to skin the look off of his face but knew there was nothing she could do now to save herself. This was the opposite to what she imagined being Carja felt like. They stood as tall as giants but she had never felt so small, so petty, while trying to act like one of them.

"Well?" Avad demanded. On either side of him Vanasha and Sylens stared down at her, bedraggled and embarrassed in the riverbed, with looks closing in on pity. "Aloy, what are you doing?"

She felt the scolding coming before she even opened her mouth. "I-"

"Your Radiance!" the hunter cut off, striding from the water, lifting himself onto the bank before Avad's strider with an ease that defied his waterlogged clothing. "She really is one of yours, then?"

Avad, brow furrowed, nodded. 

"And here I thought her another mad Nora,” the hunter laughed. “They've been infecting these lands ever since their Matriarch's opened the borders. I'm sure Meridian is flooded with her kind trying to string more than two words together."

Aloy bristled deeply at the words, and made to respond.

"Outlander," Avad said in a stony voice. "You are in the presence of Aloy the Anointed, Saviour of Meridian, Listener to the Unseen, and Master of Machines. Hold how you speak of her people or I will do it for you."

The hunter did not balk at a threat made from a king, in fact, he smiled. "Forgive me, your Radiance, I never meat a word. I was only making sure she was not making that part up, though I recognize my error now that I can gaze upon hair like winter embers, knowing there is only one in the world known to burn as brightly as the Anointed." 

His smooth talk only made her bristle more, her unease spiking through the irritation, and she found herself shuffling, getting her feet under herself in case she needed to leap upon the threat if he got too close to Avad. It was the way he spoke. It bothered her before, and it bothered her even more now that he had changed it when addressing the Sun-King.

"What do you want, Outlander?" Avad demanded.

"Well, when I thought she was nothing more than a vagabond I did not believe her, but with this new unveiling I am willing to accept her offer."

"What?" Aloy hissed. What offer?

"She made you an offer?" Avad echoed.

"You misunderstand us, your Radiance," the hunter breezed on like he was talking to another man on the pathways. "We are not only Outlander's. We currently hail from the pits of Sunfall and have journeyed out here in search of new armour for the grand reopening."

“You’re pit fighters,” Avad surmised, and shifted in his saddle, readjusting his grip on the reins of his strider. The hunter mimicked the movement, right down to the two fingers splayed across one wrist. “Aloy is correct then, we are in need of an escort. My guards are tired. I am sure they would appreciate the chance to rest, and for seasoned warriors such as yourselves to be our guides into the people’s city, I can think of no one better.”

“You are welcome, your Radiance, but it is your envoy you should be thanking,” the hunter said, and shot a side long look to Aloy, smirking under his mask. “She was perfectly diplomatic.”

Vanasha and Sylens looked as confused as Aloy felt. The Hunter had no such pause and they watched him stride from the bank towards the Sun-King, water streaming from his black travellers trousers. Avad’s vanguard of Oseram brandished their weapons, and the hunter paused only to bow to his Radiance, a deep, low sweep which he peeked up from to smile and wink at the Sun-King, who dipped his head in return. The hunter then lead his fellow armour hunters onto the path Aloy had dragged the convoy off of minutes before, to melt into the Sun-King’s men.

Aloy trudged out of the water, Koa on her heels, and had hoped to plough through the people watching and be left alone. No such luck though, Vanasha and Sylens found her immediately, Sylens blocking her path with his Strider.

“What was that?” he asked, actually sounding amused.

Aloy refused to bend under their stares, throwing her sopping head back to look him in the eye. “What you wanted.”

“We did not tell you to embarrass yourself in front of the Sun-King and his retinue,” Vanasha said, beginning the scolding Aloy knew she deserved but her pride refused to forfeit.

“You told me to be more Carja,” Aloy sniffed at her, and Vanasha’s gaze darkened considerably. “Well, what could be more Carja than making a struggling group of men do my work for me? You know what? I might even refuse to pay them. Is that Carja enough for you?”

She turned on her heel and strode off before Vanasha could answer, Koa shambling along at her side. As she passed through the crowds she could feel a pair of flinty eyes watching her, but she refused to give the hunter the satisfaction of looking back.

 

She didn’t have to put up with the hunter again until later that night as she sat before one of the small fires, checking the tips of her arrows in case one of those hunters decided they didn’t want to be a good guide, Koa propped up against her thigh and snoozing loudly, when she felt a presence behind her, and a pair of brown leather boots with black metal shin guards was dropped into her lap.

She threw them off as the man sauntered around her to park himself beside her on the grass, the opposite side Koa had blinked awake on, balancing on his heels in a crouch, his feet bare. He gave the discarded boots a blank look.“And after making such a big fuss?”

But she was on to him now. The way he chopped and changed the way he spoke. The grace of which he moved that could only come from years of hunting, stalking. And the way he’d killed that Broadhead hadn’t left her mind since she’d left the river. He wasn’t going to corner her with his twisting words. Vanasha and Sylens wanted her to play the game? Fine. All good hunters had to start somewhere, though, and this man was looking to be a fine place to begin her training.

“What do you want?” she said, not looking away from the fire, feigning her curiosity in indifference and the bluntness she was known for. Let him think he had her figured out.

“To settle up.” He inclined his head towards the boots.

She scowled sidelong at him. “I didn’t take you to be so noble,” she muttered sarcastically.

“And I didn’t take the Anointed to be so demanding.”

“The Anointed can do what she likes, did no one tell you?” she said, and despite not meaning to be funny, the hunter laughed.

“I heard she _goes_ where she likes,” he said, settling himself down, legs crossed under him. Koa let out a noise that could have been a groan or a growl, but the hunter shifted a little further away regardless.

Aloy narrowed her eyes at him. “I thought you hadn’t heard of me at all. Or did you come up with the _girl of winter embers_ on the spot?” She regarded him a long moment. He was still wearing a mask, but had changed it from the deep black one that covered his entire head, to a midnight blue upper face visor crafted from Stormbird feathers, folded so they circled the sides of his face, settling on his ears and leaving the top of his head exposed, black hair ruffling in the cool evening air. In a fight one good hit would knock it free, but in the firelight it shone prettily. To claim he needed new parts when he had a mask as beautiful as that set off that prickle again in Aloy’s nerves. “Who are you, hunter?”

He didn’t look away from the fire, orange flickers dancing with the lines of his sharp face unhidden by the mask, his flinty eyes unfocused on the twisting, popping flames. “Pit boy, to some. Shadow to others,” he said at last, then considered her for a long moment. “Shade, for you, my lady.”

“And your group,” Aloy said flatly, untaken by his charms, remembering the man she’d snapped at barking the name in the river.

“Our group, now, Anointed. We travel to Sunfall together. You know my purpose there, but what is yours?”

“The Sun-King’s,” Aloy answered vaguely, her answer prepared. She knew his type, always needing to know everything, even when it wasn’t his business, and thought himself clever enough to wheedle it out of unsuspecting idiots to be used for later schemes.

“His Radiance does not share his intentions with the envoys who represent him?” Shade continued to press, chopping his voice into a casual lilt.

“He does, because he trusts them not to share them with anyone else.” She turned on him, finding his dark grey eyes under the half face mask. “Look, Shade, I know what you did back in that stream.” She didn’t say thank you, but he tipped his head towards her like she had. “But once we reach Sunfall our paths will no longer cross. Not if I can help it.”

He chewed on that, angular jaw working. “If that is how it must be,” he finally consented. “Though perhaps I could earn your favour for my first match? A lock of hair, or that beautiful silken scarf to tie around my arm?”

Aloy looked down at the scarf around her neck. She wasn’t sweating any more, her dip in the river had actually done wonders for her body, though damaged her reputation, but that didn’t mean she wanted to part from it. “I would sooner give my favour to the bear.”

Shade looked over her lap, to where Koa was watching him silently with intense yellow eyes. “So that’s what that thing is,” he mused to himself. He looked back at her. “A pity. I look rather good in blue.” He made no move to leave her fire and seek out those built by his own group. In fact, he got comfortable, leaning back on his hands, and resumed his staring match with the blaze.

Aloy made no protest. Despite her less than enthusiastic reaction to his extended presence, she would never let herself become so low as to demand he leave. Being on the other side of that left a mark no healing scars could cover. In the dark, peeking into the fire’s glow, the bow Shade had kept strapped to his back lay in the grass, the white of the Ravager metal scoured clean through sanding and great care, and a thought popped unbidden into her mind and out of her mouth before she could stop it.

“What is your bow named?”

Shade’s hand’s almost fell out from behind him, while simultaneously he rocked forwards in shock. Aloy hadn’t realised it had been so long since either of them had spoken, but she didn’t take him to be the type to be set upon, even when she hadn’t moved from two feet away.

He righted himself, staring at her wide eyed. “Why... Why would you ask me that?” He was almost breathless.

She made a point not to notice the sudden distress that had come over him. “Something someone told me every good hunter did, a long time ago.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Is yours named?” he asked quickly, and she realised it wasn’t distress, not any more at least. That had ebbed away into something else, something more easily concealed except for the sparkle in his grey eyes. He was curious.

“Memories Whisper,” she answered. “Or just Whisper.”

He breathed out one long lungful of air. “A fine name.”

“Yours?” Aloy asked.

“It has no name,” he said, his voice changed again, softer than any man she had ever heard speak. He stood suddenly. “You are not what they speak of, Aloy the Anointed.”

“Really?” she said, standing as well. He was taller than her by a good head. His black whiskers tipped upwards as he smiled.

“No. You speak a lot more than they say. Louder as well.” He grinned at her affronted look. “And none of those stories do you justice. I hope you find what it is you, and his Radiance, are looking for in Sunfall when our paths part. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” But he had already melted back into the darkness before she could finish the word, leaving her sitting alone, except for Koa, beside her fire.

“Boots,” a voice said, so faintly Aloy almost didn’t hear it. But she saw the soft blue light. Bright, yet offering no glow against the darkness around her, was a little shape perched on the toe of one of the upturned boots, not even a reflection sparkling in the black shin guards. The blue light, having taken the form of a small, translucent woman, looked up at Aloy, blinking slowly. “His boots.”

“GAIA...” Aloy breathed. “You... you’re here. You spoke.”

“Did she? I?” the little woman said, cocking her head to the side. Her tiny brow furrowed. “Are you sure?” Then she disappeared into a puff of blue, back into Aloy’s Focus, her systems depleted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	16. Avad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Christmas was a bad month to make my promise of one chapter a month. I am so sorry I couldn't keep it but it has been a very long month for me. I hope you all had an amazing Christmas and a happy New Year! I spent mine getting this done for you, but I still apologise for missing the dead line. 
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> Just to be clear. This is December's chapter, not January's!
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> I wish you all an amazing year to come!

They arrived at Sunfall in the mid-afternoon three days after taking on the rabble Aloy had invited along after her escapade in the river. They moved alongside their group, often breaking away when a machine was spotted, bellowing their war cries and hunters songs as they gave chase. Their jests an jibes to each other could be heard no matter how far from the group they careened, through the brush, over the rocks, through the crags, always usually to do with how one threw or aimed or tracked like another’s mother – an Oseram favourite. Other times they would lope alongside the parade. They did not ride, nor would they walk in any sort of formation. They were was wild as the machines they hunted; boorish, crude, loud in their laughter and in the beloved regaling of their battles in the pits to the Carja war veterans around a crackling campfire.

But, truth be told, Avad rather enjoyed them, enjoyed them very much. They were nothing like the stuffy nobles or uptight artisans he had to suffer through day in and day out in Meridian, and sometimes  throughout the night as well, because the ownership of the space between two highly respected separate stalls that sold exactly the same silks in the market square could not wait. That squabble had passed by in four hours and through a lunch meeting Avad was supposed to have had with Vanasha, Nasadi and Itamen. Later on he’d found out, from Vanasha, that Uthid had gone in his place and the meeting had been jovial for all. He wished he’d been there, a brief half hour where he could relax.

But these pit fighters, he was almost too relaxed around them, and he liked himself best when they spotted him and called him over. The Oseram smithies looking for any lunk of metal they could grab would throw their arms around his shoulders as they walked the trail and ask him how good the metal was in Meridian. They'd flex their arms to show how many nicks and dents their foreguards and plates had survived, and roar with laughter when he commented that no Carja smith would make something so durable, because if it didn't decay then the buyer couldn't come back to be ripped off all over again.

The Banuk were much more reserved but never superior, never disdainful of the Oseram’s louder joys and jolly laughter. It was only the two, twins from Ban-Ur who claimed to be descended from the first Ice Strider’s, the first of the tribes to break and descend from the mountains and step upon the first snowfall of the lower lands. They were dressed in almost identical summer robes of gorgeous fur inlaid with hard Stormbird plates, only Nanu’s coat was white and Katook’s coat was sky blue.

The Shadow Carja sobered his high spirits, reminding him that they were moving deeper and deeper into dangerous territory, that he must remain aware in the vipers pit lest he be bitten and the poison fester without his knowing. They watched him intently, and he responded with casual smiles and acknowledging nods, jokes at the fire and shared stories. He even bestowed upon them his plans for the reforms, and how he was preparing to negotiate with the Shadow Carja nobles. They in turn to his camaraderie offered what they knew of the nobles and how best to approach them.

Sadik, a lithe spear using Shadow Carja with skin as dark as oiled wood, his armour light beaten leather so he could leap and spin in the arena as gracefully as the galloping Lancehorn, commented that nobleman Nasin’s wife insisted they attend his matches, and that with every victory she would throw him a silver shard stamped with her family crest. He showed Avad his collection, token favours from the nobleman’s wife, each one given with a wink and a promise that he was welcome at their estate anytime.

Hellan, a thick chested Oseram, the only part of him uncovered when he fought and criss-crossed with scars until he resembled the diamond patch work rug that adorned the floor of Avad’s chambers back in Meridian, boasted frequently of his winnings in the gamblers pits. He always bet on himself in matches, and never against his fellow Oseram, and he was a richer man every match because of his loyalty. Through a deep gulp of brew he told Avad one night that if he ever found the taste for a good bet in his mouth while he was in Sunfall, then he should ask for the booky who went by Tinker. He was used by those only in the shards enough to know his name. Noblemen and lucky pit fighters were his business’s bread and butter, for he gave the best odds and always paid up front. And with a name like Tinker, he was likely an Oseram too, because Hellan, like all of Tinker’s customers, had never met the man in person.

The Banuk twins spoke only of their songs, how a way could be attuned and embodied, that nothing could be held back when the song filled the body and sould.

“When you attune to Peace,” Nanu began,

“You can never be stunned,” Katook finished.

Nanu nodded his blue hooded head to his brothers point. “If you sing for courage,”

“No roar will shake you.”

“When you sing of your love in war to preserve,”

“Over the hate that consumes,”

“Then your enemies can never best you,” they finished together.

They both had a lyrical way of speaking, like two murmurs rehearsing a play, two lovers finishing the others sentence, two brothers who’d shared a dream since boyhood; genuine in its loveliness, connected in their souls devotion to skill and strength. Uthid would like these boys. Avad hoped to make the introductions himself, and soon.

Shade... well, the name suited him. He shadowed the group, their leader in his quiet way, always offering a smirk or a wink to any traveller, man or woman, that managed to catch his eye. Aloy always received a particularly long wink, the tip of his tongue poking out when containing any decorum, any cool aloofness, became too much to contain at her reddening cheeks. He was obsessed with her bear cub, though Avad suspected that was not the only reason the man trailed after the huntress in a way that desperately tried not to look like it. But Avad had seen Shade pass Aloy the red petals of the Setting Shade, a vibrant plant that only grew in the northern Carja hills. He was a traveller himself and claimed he was asking her opinion on the flowers medicinal properties.

Avad generally ignored Shade’s lingering looks and observant ways that bordered on fixation, deciding it was best not to interfere with a groups ways. His pit fighters did not react to indicate this was odd behaviour, so neither would Avad.

For those brief three days, he was content to be a man travelling, not a king ruling, and he could tell that these pit fighters couldn’t give two busted arm guards or a poorly timed shit in the shorts during a match who he was. It was something he hadn’t realised he’d been missing for a long time, and he loved them dearly for it already, for being the brothers in battle, the sentries on duty, the drinking buddies, that he’d never gotten to have.

 

They were greeted at the Sunfall gates by a man no bigger than Koa, and so tightly wrapped in a dark red pair of leggings and a thin linen purple vest that he looked like one sneeze and he would squirt out of his clothes like a mud covered babe. His face, already nervous and sunburnt, twisted upon the arrival of Avad and his retinue of council members, honour guards, and the pit fighters swaggering along, flanking the group.

Shade strode out upon spotting the small man. “Dakim!” he cried cheerily. “They put you on babysitting duty did they? Couldn’t be bothered to send one of their own? Where’s Haman? He would never miss a chance to seem important.”

Dakim’s face, already red from the suns glare, flushed deeply. “Pit fighters have no place in a royal escort,” he said in a voice so nasally it was its own accent. Beside him, Aloy winced. “All of you, out.”

“I thought there weren’t no royals in Sunfall,” Hellan laughed, nudging Sadik, who only smirked at Dakim coolly.

“Anymore,” Shade amended, and Hellan’s laughter turned to deep guffaws.

“The nobles are waiting,” Dakim said dryly, ignoring the pit fighters nudging each other and sniggering like little children. Aloy was grinning at the shared mirth, until her eyes snagged on Shade’s. He smirked. She scowled and looked away to tell Koa to heel.

Well, at least she wasn’t still salting over their first encounter.

Seeing Dakim’s face beginning to purple, Avad dismissed the bulk of his guard to prepare their lodgings, and the pit fighters happily went with them.

Vanasha had given them a list of the most respected inns in Sunfall, where the most revered merchants laid down their hats or headscarves to gossip about the days sales or spread tales of which of the nobles were sleeping with whom. Tables just for dice games were carpeted with mini fields of green felt, numbers dyed into the surface to represent the points to Kyrasse, the most popular Carja dice game. Every bottle of wine, liquor, gin, beer and brew was stacked upon its own shelf behind the bar, dated, stamped and sipped by those who could afford them. The rooms, Vanasha had a lot to say about the rooms; Furnished with grand leather chairs in front of deeply set fireplaces that never spewed smoke and beds stuffed to the overflow with goose feathers instead of straw or grass stems. Vanasha said it was like sleeping amongst the clouds while the sun warmed your face.

Vanasha said they were the best inns in town. Everybody who was anybody stayed in them. So Avad put his men under strict orders to avoid them at all costs. In fact, as he watched them all walk off together, he hoped the pit fighters would take his guards to their favourite crawls, away from the expensive tastes and ears too primed to listen to anything outside of their petty, mundane lives. Crawls were noisy, cheap and cheerful and exactly what he needed.

As the groups separated, parting at the square where Dikam had patiently waited while the sun burned the top of his thinning head, Shade turned to what was left of the group of diplomats, past spies and four guards, plucked at the bottom of his chosen mask for the day – a dark blue piece warped to flow like rushing water across his cheeks, over his brows and hooking onto his ears – and tipped it upwards, just enough to expose the bottom of one silver eye, and a small scar dyed brown slit into the cheekbone underneath. It was small, one you would only see if you knew where to look, and the same went for the other four patterned around the eye.

So, he didn’t leave. Avad’s stomach clenched like he’d been holding the thread to a trapdoor and yanked it open.

Shade winked with his exposed eye.

Avad spun instinctively, looking over his shoulder, his heart, thumping so suddenly wild, falling through the trapdoor of his stomach. But Aloy was ahead of them, her back to the Sun-King and the Pit fighter. She was walking with Vanasha, their heads bowed together as they whispered. When Avad turned to Shade he was given only the man’s back as he strode leisurely at the rear of the receding guards, the hooks of his mask back behind his ears, arms crossed behind his back in an unbothered stretch.

Bastard.

Dakim walked, the seat of his pants practically smoking from the heat of the sun and the friction his brisk pace set, hands folded behind his back in a no nonsense way. Mindful of propriety Avad matched the pace, remembering his position (noticeably unacknowledged by Dakim) he did it with a straight back and powerful stride, effortless in appearance next to the frantic steward.

On the inside he was a man stumbling, shambling behind the many paths his thoughts raced down, trying to decide how he would approach the nobles when he was presented before them. On the road he and Vanasha had talked over strategies on how to conduct himself, and they had settled on courteous but firm in his standing, and a not o shameless decision to compliment and simper to their ego’s. Aloy agreed begrudgingly to the addition, saying that the nobles were nothing but knights of summer suns playing prince, blazing hot and bright while they clutched to the summer months. But the pale low sun of winter was rising upon their season of gluttony and corruption. Avad intended the wake up to be a stark, cold one.

He could feel eyes on him as they walked down the cobbled streets. They felt new but he had no way of knowing for himself. He hadn’t been here since before his boyhood, when he was nothing but a babe in his mother’s arms, when his father was still the Jiran it hurt to remember every time he  looked upon the tapestry in his chambers. He wondered if there was anyone watching them that remembered him, remembered the him that had existed in the halls of Meridian when he was barely a prince, second in line for the throne. Were the servants, slaves, handmaids, cooks, washerwoman and wenches among the crowds in the markets? Children ran past. Children of deserters and fanatics? Or citizens dragged against their will so there would be many to keep the memory of the Mad Sun-King alive? What would these small creatures think of him coming into their home? What had their mothers told them of him?

Too many thoughts crushed around his mind. Every time someone new looked at him he couldn’t help but threat over what they saw. He knew he was the Sun-King, and he’d known since he’d befriended Erend and Ersa that he was doing the right thing. It was also his knowledge of Carja propriety that assured him of his safety. Carja did not burst out into confrontations with each other. Open provocation and threats was not their custom. Any comment or insult was made through careful japes, subtle insults to the honour, or schemes the slandered families name not through the offenders own lips, but from the rumours he paid urchins and gossipers to spread. None in Sunfall, unless an assassin or a lunatic, would dare openly attack the Sun-King of Meridian, whether they believed in his station or not.

But, other than Vanasha, his friends were not privy to this protection. The customs, courtesies and social status of the Carja would not apply to them because they were not Carja, and to the men and woman under Jiran’s memory, anyone who wasn’t Carja wasn’t worth the breath for the words.

Aloy stepped up to walk beside Avad, and Vanasha followed unto his other side. The Nora was looking around, no doubt remembering the ways of the Shadow Carja. Her hair was out and bright in the sunshine and she’d left her face free of paints of masks. Last time she was in the Northern independence, Vanasha had explained to him, she’d had to cover her hair and done a disguise simply to save the world. Now she walked tall and proud amongst the sneers and stares. The Anointed who’d bested their zealot.

No, Carja propriety would not protect her, not when she was so stubbornly, beautifully, Aloy.

But he could also sense her discomfort. It could not be helped when they were so vastly outnumbered.

He leant close to her. “We will not be here long.”

“You sound sure,” she said back in a low voice, mindful of Dakim only a few paces ahead. She herself sounded hopeful of the proposition.

“This is only a show of strength,” Vanasha joined in. “As Sylens says, the Shadow Carja want to be recognised, but they will not be given their princedom. So easily. If that were our ways-” She caught herself. “their ways, we wouldn’t needed have come at all.”

“They want a public acknowledgment,” Avad said. “Of me being wrong. Of me bending my reforms to fit their ideology over my own principles. Of me saying my father was right. I don’t know what they will ask of me. It is why they have allowed Oseram, Banuk, Nora, anyone from any tribe, into the city for the reopening. They will carry what the Sun-King did back to their tribes, and word of the Shadow Carja’s might will grow for the first time since Helis fell at the Mesa.”

“Why let them?” Aloy asked, frowning. “The claim knows you are true, and the Nora opened their gates to Outlanders because of your loyalty to our customs and the rebuilding of Mother’s land. These people want only to ruin your reputation. I say turn away from their spite and issue your reforms the way you see fit. The tribes will back you, not the last remnants of a butchers following.”

Avad smiled while Vanasha sighed. Aloy’s passion was as unpredictable as she was, another spark that made up the fire always burning within her. She could be so wise in council, and watching her laugh with the Nora that had shunned her while his people helped rebuild their homeland truly opened his eyes to the woman she was. But she wasn’t a diplomat, and her big picture was born of a true heart, not a sense battered, sharpened and crafted by years in a court.

Avad took her hand and turned it in his so that it faced upward as they walked. He gently plucked her fingers and extended them from her palm, his skin sliding softly over her calluses. “They’re scoring points for the game,” he said, marking it with her fingers. “They want acknowledgment. They want their ways to best mine. They want their pits open. They want to keep their shards and earn them how they see fit. And they want me to tell the world they are better than the Sun-King. I? I want to go home knowing I’ve made things better. Now, which is the better score? Five, or one? Who will win the game?”

Aloy frowned. “They have five. You’ll lose, and not graciously.”

Avad held up her five splayed fingers. “Five.” Then he held up his fist beside her hand, clenched tight and strong. “One. One goal that is sure. One goal that the tribes know is worth fighting for. So, the Shadow Carja can have their apology. They can have their greed. They can even take my father’s crown from the Sun Palace. It is a hunk of metal and metal walks among us. Let them have their points, let them think they’ve played well, for I am done playing. I intend to win the game.”

Aloy’s face split into a sharp and sure grin, and for a moment she was excited to watch Avad weave their words against them and leave with his head higher while they laughed at his back. Then the grin faded as they began their climb into Sunfall’s named palace. “I ask that you win quickly, your Radiance, the sooner the better.”

He wanted away from this dreadful city as quickly as she did. “We will not linger, Aloy,” he assured her. “We were invited for the reopening. Likely there will be a ceremony. A grand tournament that will last the day, and there I will most likely have to give my apology or renounce sections of my reforms that we will have negotiated before the event. I will pay to have Uthid released, whatever the amount for his freedom I do not care, and then we will be free of this city before the sun sets on the bloodied sands. I promise.”

Aloy smiled gratefully.

They walked up the stone ramps, Avad’s boots clicking, Aloy’s slippered feet whispering. The Guards at the stone archways made to move to stop the Nora and Oseram’s, but Sylens moved to the front and dismissed them. They followed the orders, and the reminder that it was a Banuk who had dug them out from the wreckage Helis’s death had left them in dulled the hostility to glares and unsheathed weapons left hanging by their sides in not-so-subtle aggression.

Dakim passed under the last archway, through a grand set of stone doors and into a huge domed room. A mural of purple stones depicting the rays of a shrouded sun bursting through the clouds stretched from the centre of the room, and it was here that he swivelled to face the Sun-King and his party.

“The nobles are waiting within,” he  droned. “Chose a guard to accompany you and I will take you there.” Aloy made to step forwards and Dakim seized her with a flat small eyed stare. “Only the...” He struggled on the words until finally spitting them begrudgingly. “Sun-King is permitted. No others.”

“What?” Aloy snapped, and Dakim flinched back. He tried to straighten himself, pretend it never happened, but it was too late. No matter what he said now, Aloy and the Oseram would never stand for it when it seemed all they need sharpen were their tongues to scare him.

“I will take a council member and two guards,” Avad said firmly. “And that does not include your envoy, who I assume the nobles wish to receive as well?”

Dakim watched the group of Outlanders carefully. It would be impossible to see the Oseram’s eyes behind their bolted masks. Vanasha stood with her arms folded, looking down on the little man. Sylens said nothing, and his compliance with the demand was answer enough.

“Fine,” Dakim wheezed. “Make your choice. The nobles do not like to be kept waiting.”

“They will not be kept,” Avad assured him with an easy smile. “I will be taking Derric, Kaln, and Vanasha with me.”

Dakim eyed Vanasha unfavourably. “I’ sure they’ll remember her.”

“Then we can spare the introductions and move forwards swiftly,” Avad said. “With any luck we can be done by evenfall.”

“Very well,” Dakim said. It was, after all, not his job to negotiate. He was a simple steward who’d had the unfortunate task of guide. He turned and walked to the end of the entrance hall, to an open doorway where a setoff stairs was waiting to be ascended.

Avad and Vanasha made to follow, the chosen guards moving to flank them, when Aloy rushed forwards. The Sunfall guards shouted and drew weapons instinctively, though it was undoubtedly obvious they were spoiling for the chance to seize her. But she only moved to block Avad and Vanasha’s paths.

“I should be going up with you,” she said, face flushed.

“Would that you could,” Vanasha agreed, and it was clear she meant it. “But pushing for me will already be an affront. We cannot overreach before we’ve even begun.”

“Let me come with you,” Aloy insisted.

“And remind them of another loss?” Vanasha asked, but she softened. “You will be needed, Aloy. You’re too valuable to be left on the sidelines. But the beginning is always the most delicate. This is a time for what the Carja do best.”

Avad put his hand on her shoulder. “You did not come here for this. I promise they will ask for all my council and they can just try and keep you from my side then. For now, go do what you came here for. Find Artemis. Vanasha and I will speak of what transpired.”

She hesitated, as he knew she would. Even before she’d known him, Aloy’s heart demanded she help a man who got to sit on the highest seat in Meridian, only because she believed it was right. But she was still the cunning hunter, and finally she nodded and moved off, back to where the rest of the guard was waiting.

By the door, Dakim cleared his throat. “Escorts to your quarters will be along shortly. Nora, there is to be no wandering while you are a guest in the palace. Someone will be waiting to receive you.”

“Receive me?” Aloy blustered indignantly.

Dakim turned and led the way up the stairs before she could run him down. This was not his job. Whomever was stuck with the Nora could find a way to handle her. For now, he simply need only walk up a flight of stairs.

Behind him, Vanasha and Avad paced themselves. They both knew how tall the tower was, and did not want to seem winded before the noblemen. They bent their heads and whispered as they walked, but it was all for show. They knew what they would say and how they would say it. But it never hurt to let the enemy think they were showing their necks before they struck.

Chatter began to echo from above, and soon the steps began to level, until they reached the final hallway. The door was left ajar, two Shadow Carja guards standing before it. They made way for the procession but did not bother closing the door, for as soon as Dakim introduced the Sun-king of Meridian and his Councilwoman, he fled back the way he had come.

Only then did the door close behind them with a resounding boom.

“Sit, Avad.” Sudan, as Avad remembered, though somehow fatter, gestured to a chair. He saw nobleman Nasin there as well, his twisted leg curled beneath him, covered with a long satin skirt, and remembering Sadik’s words, found it hard to look the nobleman in the eye without blushing.

Avad slipped into the seat at the other end of a long table. Vanasha took the one next to him, leaning back and folding her arms leisurely across her lap. The noblemen noticed, and the noblemen did not like the casualness of the invasion to their meeting. Avad knew the risk of bringing Vanasha and did it anyway. These people considered themselves the wheel that kept Sunfall rolling. Well, if they where the wheel, Vanasha was the knife shoved into the spoke to shatter the frame.

Once they were seated, Sudan let a smile weave its way through his plump cheeks. He offered Vanasha a gracious nod, even smiling at her. “Vanasha. I am so glad to see you’ve moved up from handmaiden. You really had us fooled. I trust Nasadi and Itamen are well.”

“Very,” Vanasha supplied with a smile of her own.

“That is good. We who bear the burden of ruling in our princes stead are not so petty as to not wish him well.”

Avad ignored the implication in Sudan’s words. He would die before seeing his brother back in this sunless city. He looked over the other nobles, counting almost fifteen, and knew it would take every ounce of will he had to get through this meeting, and wanted nothing more than to get it over with. “As I am a guest here, your lords, I will follow the proceedings you have set for this meeting.”

If his haste was obvious he only hoped the nobles wouldn’t be so petty as to drag the meeting into the dawn hours. He was sand stained and tired, and not at all feeling very kingly.

Sudan gestured to the table, where papers were spread out in carefully stacked piles. “Thank you, your Radiance.” So they hadn’t forgotten their manners. It helped Avad relax a little in his seat, and he felt the tension bleed slightly from the Oseram guards behind him. “Everything has been arranged for you to see over. Your reforms, our terms, and the matches for the reopening of the pits one we have reached our agreement.”

“I look forward to your fighters proving me wrong,” Avad said with as little contempt as he could muster, knowing it would please the nobles.

“Indeed,” Sudan said with a smile Avad should have known was coming but was too tired to anticipate. What the fat lord said next, however, woke him unto a sunless nightmare. “The bouts are all set up. The rings are preparing now. It will surely be a season the likes of which Sunfall has not seen for many generations.”

“Season?” Vanasha said before Avad could fully register what Sudan had said. “My lords, we were told it was to be a tournament. A grand reopening.”

Sudan looked at her like she’d just said the most stupid thing possible. “Do you have any idea how a tournament is handled? Or is spiriting princes from their homes the only talent you posses?”

“The Sun Ring of Sunfall does not hold simple beggars who steal enough to buy some scrap they can sharpen into a sword,” a youthful man with a thick beard sniffed. He cradled the pommel of the sword at his belt, almost erotic in its tenderness, dangerous in its eagerness. “Fighters worthy enough for the Sun must prove themselves first. They must work their way up, fighting in matches across Sunfall’s territory.”

A noble much, much older than the youth pointed a shaking, pallid finger at one of the stacks of papers. “We have received all the submissions for the preliminaries,” he wheezed. “The rosters have been written and matches allocated. There are to be seven tournaments to determine who will fight in the grand reopening. Once a week we will hold them in Sunfall’s neighbouring towns. They all have their own pits, though much smaller than the Sun Ring.”

“When all the victors have been decided, the Sun Ring will hold the greatest tournament it will likely ever see,” the youth said, eyes gleaming, a lust to his voice that could only be fuelled by the knowing he would be amongst those men, breaking that sand and spilling blood.

“It is there you will announce our treaty,” Sudan said, leaning back in his seat. “It will be good to know we have plenty of time to work out the kinks.”

Eight weeks. Avad could feel his throat drying up, and knew there would be no water within his reach. This was their land, their traditions, and he had all but renounced his part in them. There was nothing he could do to sway them without damaging his credibility. The games were set, the players in motion, and he would have to take his part or be discredited forever.

Eight weeks. Two months in Sunfall. Aloy was not going to be happy.

Sudan’s piggy eyes found Avad’s and held them with a satisfied gleam. He gestured to the stack of papers closest to Avad, but in his stupor he did not think to reach for them, so Vanasha did instead. “Our terms to the reforms,” Sudan said, and the gleam in his eyes bled into a smirk. The stack was at least ten pages thick. “Shall we begin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	17. Sylens

Sylens didn't bother to wonder if Avad and Vanasha had noticed that he hadn't followed them to the council tower, that he was absent from meetings where his input could likely sway the tides in whatever favour he chose. Instead he was chasing the setting sun down the western halls, up into his own tower within Sunfall's stone walls. His pace hobbled, his limp maddeningly slow because of the dislocated ankle that refused to heal quickly. The frustration pushed him to go faster, abusing the swelling joint made no healthier by weeks of riding. 

But he had to see her. The desire was none he had ever experienced before. A child born blind has no concept of sight, even when it is explained to him. Sylens had rejected emotion all his life, turning to fact and logic when he felt troubled because those surpassed concept. They were provable, and being able to prove something was almost euphoric in its realization, then taking it further, to experimentation, to research, to findings, to testing. Each step was solid, each action preordained and simple to carry out.

Nothing about how Sylens felt now was simple, and his wavering steps were mud slipping out beneath him, instead of the assured way stone felt underfoot when approaching fact. 

Ilas was a woman. Fact. The only woman he'd ever met as clever as Aloy. Fact. The only woman he'd ever known to be as clinical as himself. Fact. 

But she was concept beyond his ability to define. Her intelligence was mesmerizing, and instead of the urge to dissect her mind, figure out where her thoughts came from and then dissect that, he found only the wish to be lost, enveloped, and to fall deeper into that waiting hole from which he would never return. He knew his notes would annotated when he found her and that knowledge, mixed with the desperate anticipation of seeing what she had interpreted from his writings, what they'd made together, fuelled his speed.

It didn't help that she was beautiful, but her breathtaking mind was what had him practically running up the stairs. She'd be in his rooms, he knew that before opening his door, forsaking the knock because it was his quarters, because he couldn't waste the extra second and a half.

She started upwards from her lounging position in his favourite chair, seated behind his desk with her feet up on the wooden corner she'd scuffed. Anyone else and he'd be infuriated, calling the guards to have that person escorted out. Ilsa worked best when relaxed, when she could be comfortable and fall into her work without interruption. What fell from her mind in return was nothing short of godlike in its clarity, so much so that Sylens had taken to perching at his letter table happily to give her the comfort of his desk. She liked to be warm too, and his hearth was crackling softly as logs spit and shifted within the dancing flames.

Their guests would see the vastness of her intelligence when they witnessed what replaced hearths in their own rooms, but Ilsa, with all her brilliance, preferred to be heated by old fashioned fires. 

"Sylens," she breathed, standing from the chair quickly. Then her composure chased away her surprise and she daintily placed herself on the arm of his chair, folding her arms cross her stomach. "You took your time."

"Time needed to be taken," he replied easily. Seeing her sated him, especially the notes she'd been scribbling as he walked in. He took his first slow steps into the room, limping with everyone. Ilsa's amber eyes flicked down to his wounded ankle immediately, assessing and... critical? 

"You got hurt." It was not a question, and held no concern whatsoever. A calm fact. She rarely wasted breath on stating the obvious though.

"My getting hurt made my return possible," he supplied as answer, hobbling further into the room to collapse into his smaller desk's chair. H wanted to prop his aching foot up, but abhorred the idea of looking weak in front of anyone, not just Ilsa.

"You also made no effort at contact," Ilsa commented tersely as she moved round the front of the desk, leaning back against it. 

"We discussed this before my departure," Sylens said. "If I was caught in contact with someone from Sunfall my hosts would have assumed the worst."

"By the few connections I managed to get a hold of in Meridian I would say they already did."

Sylens quirked an eyebrow towards her. "Checking up on me?" God, was he teasing her? 

Ilsa looked to be wondering the same thing, her brows furrowed before shaking her head. "I thought you of all people would know how much I despise misinformation."

"My dear, you despise no information at all far worse."

That was definitely teasing. Gods of all that he'd left to the Banuk, who was this Sylens? 

But Ilsa, surprisingly, smiled, sharp and sly. "Exactly. Don't keep it from me again."

He hated women who ordered. Aloy was insufferable, especially when he was in holo-form, like she could actually make him do anything from thousands of miles away. Ilsa implied, and if there was one thing Sylens appreciated, it was subtlety; the art of ordering politely, of making the pittance think it was their idea. He caught her when she did it to others, and always when she did it to him, but he could forgive her for it, because she did it so well. 

"They assumed the worst, just like you anticipated." Ilsa's almond eyes twinkled at the admission that she'd been right. They always did that when her point was proven. "Luckily the favour I curried with the Annointed years ago saved me from the worst of Avad's severity."

"A slap on the wrist?" Ilsa asked dryly, the twinkle vanishing. She had no love for Avad and his compassion, or the home she'd left behind when she'd fled to Sunfall, considering his reforms an exercise in weakness she counted herself lucky to escape. She'd followed Jiran, then Helis - despite their fanaticism over logic. She was a Carja of the Blooded Sun - that's what they distinguished themselves by now, those with ancestors dating back to the savage east who crossed the wilds to find their home, their city, their people. They considered Avad a traitor to all those people had suffered once he'd accepted the Oseram and Nora - the embodiment of the savages they'd escaped - into Meridian's glorious fold.

Sylens knew she was also smart enough to know that Sunfall could not exist as it had any longer. A kingdom could not grow alone, and with his work and her innovations they had too much to offer to sit by any longer. She didn't have to like it, but she did have to water the roots. He could not tend this garden alone.

"I was given a cell to wait in while they deliberated." He was sure though that it was the pacifists approach to a show of force. "And... HADES was confiscated."

Ilsa's head snapped up. "You lost him?"

"It," Sylens said, watching her. "He is a thing, do not forget that. And he is not lost to us. My actions in the capitol secured our hold on him. Do try to have some faith in my abilities at diplomacy. I have been doing this longer than you have."

Ilsa never scowled, but her eyebrows dipped flatly into an unimpressed line. "Where is the lantern?"

"In custody of the Sun-King," Sylens admitted. "But I have access to it, and I have already made it clear that our terms involve the Lantern being released back into ours. With what Aloy and I might have discovered though, they would be fools to not hand it over."

"The animal," Ilsa said, cutting to the point with her knife of a voice. He'd shown her the holo he'd taken of the creature. She'd agreed instantly that they could not let the opportunity go. No matter her hatred for the Carja in Meridian, Ilsa knew capturing another sub-function was more important. Harnessing its power could change their world, and if she had to play nice, Sylens had no doubt she would put on the performance of a lifetime. "You've seen it?"

"Seen it, touched it, studied it." Sylens couldn't keep the excitement from his voice. "It's marvellous. Even in adolescence its strength is remarkable. It can find food, dig, fight. I've never seen anything alive like it."

"You want more." Ilsa rarely asked him questions. She always managed to just know his thoughts. He was on his way to gaining the same power to her, but his stop-and-start progress made him wonder if she picked and chose what she allowed him to be able to just know.

"You don't?" Sylens asked, ignoring the gnawing feeling her insight of him always left in the pit of his stomach. He'd catch up, he had to. "It's fur is thicker than any boar or fox hide. If we cornered the trade of that alone, no mouth in Sunfall would ever go hungry again. Meat, claws, eyes - medicine men and woman will come to us, our sicknesses will disappear. Putting them in the pits could bring in more shards. And bear cubs are only the beginning of what ARTEMIS will give us."

And the knowledge. So much to discover from that purple paw print. Sylens had to find it. And, in the back of his mind, the hope he and Aloy could only whisper about, both too afraid to believe it could be true.

The hope that APOLLO could have survived.

Ilsa was eyeing him, he could feel it, but he wanted to remain lost in his deluded imaginings. That idiot Faro had erased all of APOLLO’s archives, and the remnants of Odyssey likely still listed through space. But then how was ARTEMIS operating now? What the first of the new age learned from ELIUTHIA was supposed to be the guide on how to operate ARTEMIS, but APOLLO's wipe destroyed all chances of that.   
  
So... was APOLLO alive? Had HADES breaking of the sub-functions chains somehow restored it. Did the actions of GAIA resurrect their one chance to finally be what Elisabet had intended them to be? 

"What’s your plan?" Ilsa's voice interjected into his thoughts.

"To move forwards," Sylens said distractedly, finally conceding to the pain in his ankle and propping it upon the chair in front of him.

He should have known ignoring Ilsa wouldn't happen. She swept from the table and towards him, amber eyes ablaze from within her flying white hair, a storm across an open sea, and he the unlucky fishing raft caught in her wake. "And how do we do that?" 

"Am I the only one here coming up with ideas?" Sylens snapped back at her though he did not rise from his seat. "You came to me, remember, and I took you on. Be useful or I may find I have no use for you!" 

It was as blatant a bluff as any he could possibly come up with. He would never find anyone as intelligent or captivating as Ilsa, and likely she knew the worth he held her to as well.

"You talk to me of use? You hobble into this room from the Bastard King's court and tell me you have handed him our one edge in this chase, and you dare say I am of little use?" She lashed at him with an incredulous bite as she reached for the chair.

Paine exploded from his ankle, gripping fingers of agony circling the joint. What had done this? "Ilsa," he managed through gritted teeth. 

She must have heard the pain in his voice, for her eyes widened and she dropped her grip. He gasped raggedly, eyes screwing shut as jolts of pain shot from his ankle into his foot. He could hear movement around him, Ilsa moving to his desk and opening a draw. She was moving closer again, he could hear her approaching, and a pitiful whimper escaped his lips. Fingers brushed his ankle. Again? He was in too much pain to tell.

And then the pain just vanished. The throbbing he hadn't been able to shake for weeks was suddenly gone. He opened his eyes, searching for his foot, terror gripping him at the thought of what might have happened to it.

Ilsa leaned over him, her eyes shining. In his haze he thought it to be worry, it looked like it, but for one moment he thought he'd seen something else. Something unsettlingly close to triumph.

One hand touched his shoulder and he saw her lips move, but no sound reached his ears. He thought it looked like his name, but he couldn't be sure. Her other hand was on his leg, stroking soothing circles on his shin. Below her hand, a metal claw encased his ankle.

"What-" he started, trying to pull away.

"Shhh, dear one," Ilsa's voice finally floated through. "It is not there to harm. I was going to test it soon on myself, but I could not bear to see you in such a way. Are you all right?"

His mind faded in and out. He remembered the throbbing of his ankle from weeks ago, but the intense agony he'd experienced just seconds ago was a blur. "The pain...?"

Her face crumpled, amber eyes failing to meet his. "I should not have been so rash. In my haste I knocked your leg." 

He remembered her coming towards him, reaching for his foot, but the knob on the top of his chair back was right beside his foot. Had she been reaching for that?

“What is this?” he asked, fingers shaking towards the metal jaws encasing his ankle.

Ilsa’s eyes flittered towards it, and she smiled shakily. “A new device.”

“One of yours?” Sylens asked. The shock was calming, his shaking at the memory of the pain fading. Ilsa nodded. “What does this one do?”

“Can you not feel it?” she teased, knowing full well that he was reaping the benefits. “I had one of the Kestrels go out. ‘Any Terra-forming machine will do’, I ordered, ‘just bring me its core and a canister each of Blaze and Chillwater.”

“To deal with inflammation,” Sylens winced. “and swelling. It’s marvellous, Ilsa. The pain is gone.”

“And healing,” Ilsa said. “The machine cores regenerating facilities in case harm occurs will begin knitting the damage back together again.”

Sylens thought his body was already doing that, yet still something choked up inside his chest. “I will limp no longer?”

“If it is successful. You are my patient zero.”

“How many have you made?” he asked, voice awed.

“This will be the first of many, and I have designs for them to become smaller, to fit certain areas of the body.”

Sylens wasn’t quite brave enough to test his weight on his ankle yet, so reclined back into his chair. “Daquil!” At his shout a young man hurried into the room, a servant Ilsa liked to have around, though doubtless he would soon put in a request to join the Kestrels. For now, he made a good man-maid. “Iced Wine. Two cups. Now.”

Daquil nodded, bowed his head to Ilsa, then ran to complete the request.

“One for me?” Ilsa asked, slipping into a seat beside the fire. She, too, propped her feet upon a chair and relaxed back.

“Do I dare deprive you of anything?” Sylens asked, and Ilsa laughed, a small shake to her head. Before Daquil could return and interrupt, Sylens cleared his throat. “So, tell me what has become of Sunfall in my absence?”

Ilsa arched an eyebrow. “Well, as you predicted, the nobles immediately tried to up their stations. Trades were renegotiated, though not all legally. Some of them have new guards in their houses. Others began thinning out each other’s trade routes, calling into question their market licences, the pay they were giving to their house guards.”

“They started squabbling.” Sylens sighed, rubbing his head.

“It’s so hard being right all the time,” Ilsa read his mind, sighing dramatically. “They’re not going to let that General go. Not easily.”

“Not without blood,” Sylens agreed.

“His, if Nobleman Navis gets his way, and most of the other noblemen are backing him. They want the General to pay for his crimes.”

“He deserted,” Sylens remembered, though the bulk of his memories was from the noblemen’s side of the story. “I admit, Avad and his spy woman painted a different picture of what the General went through.”

“Vanasha?” Ilsa asked, something icy trickling into her tone. “She’s here?”

“She is.” Sylens watched for any reaction from Ilsa, but the woman’s face was stone. He knew better than to ask. She shared all her information on the Old Ones and the Sub-Functions, yet nothing on herself. “Be careful. Avad has taken a shine to her. She is on his council, and she knows this city. If there is anything you wish to exact upon her, please be more subtle than our dear nobles. Try not to be as traceable as well.”

“Noted,” Ilsa said, eyes going to the doorway as Daquil bustled in. On a tray in his hands a pitcher of ice filled with wine sweated from the sudden heat of the study. Two glasses jingled as he set them on the table, filled them halfway with wine and ice, and served them, first to Ilsa, then Sylens. He left without a dismissal, so at least he could do something right. Ilsa watched him leave. “He’s eager.”  

“To impress. A fools desperate attempt when they know their intelligence will fail,” Sylens muttered, sipping his wine.

“Not everyone can be as astute as you, Sylens.”

“If only,” Sylens sighed, but just imagining having to contend with a population as intelligent as himself already sounded exhausting. Aloy and Ilsa were challenging enough. Before she could return with another comment, Sylens sat up. “We must keep things calm with the nobles. I can’t be distracted while looking for ARTEMIS.”

Ilsa raised an eyebrow. “If they execute the General then that won’t be possible, and Navis is gunning for his head.”

“Which is why you are going to use all of the charms in your arsenal to make sure he is released with all his parts intact.”

“That’s going to be a battle unto itself,” Ilsa said, taking a draught from her wine.

“A battle you must win, or else this treaty will become a war that will destroy the western tribes, including Sunfall, in fire, and in blood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	18. Uthid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, new chapter up and running and I hope you like it cause I know you've all been dying to know what happened.
> 
> Enjoy!

When the boots came, Uthid stood. His cell was small, a dingy grey block of square stone beneath Sunfall's lower southern corner, and if he had been wearing his war helm the metal would scrape the ceiling above, but they'd taken his regalia from him upon his arrest. The metal bars encasing him inside his prison were rusted from mistreatment, the gold a sunset red that flaked to reveal dull brown beneath. It surprised him considering he had ample company. The other cells were filling and emptying almost every other day. Customers who were too aggressive were carted back and forth, usually repeat offenders. Merchant stand owners who refused to bend their prices, lest they be unable to afford the nobles quarterly taxes. And the question askers. So many of the curious.

A family member could disappear; a concerned sibling, wife, child, would ask where they were, and within a few marching steps they'd be thrown into a cell. A beggar could plead Nobleman Sudan or Navis for water or grain, and their limp body would be dragged into the jails that very afternoon.

The hungry and the curious. Uthid often found himself winding up with those poor souls wherever he turned.

When he'd been caught at the river they'd thrown him into holding, a room higher in Sunfall's walls that held him comfortably enough; a bed, a water basin, a pot for his bodily business and a window, a slit in the door where his meals could be pushed through then retrieved. Now he was lower, tucked away so as not to interfere with the whispered accusations following that mockery of a hearing. He received two bowls a day of something, a brown slop with chunks floating in it that the other prisoners simply called brown. The told him to believe the meat was boar. It was not boar. He got three ladles of water a day into a cup that had not been cleaned since its forging, and he had to choose a corner of his cell to piss in, preferably away from the corner he had to chose to sleep in.

Uthid preferred it down under the stones those pompous Shadow heathens walked upon. He'd been born under them the same way and he'd die before taking luxuries from their hands while his true fellows rotted beneath. He'd belonged with these people most of his life, and even after his recruitment by Jiran's father into Meridian's army, he hadn't truly been saved until Avad, and Aloy.

In truth, these bars wouldn’t hold him. Uthid could do more damage with a spoon then most men could with a spear, though he admitted that Aloy and Vanasha were an exception. They also were not men. The lock was old and uncared for. A quick jam and crack and it would break and he could be halfway across the scorched plains before they even realised he was gone. He could be at his Sun-King’s side again, and never be so blind as to leave it.

He had to know if Avad was all right.

But that was a plan among thousands he had already thought of, and this one had two outcomes. Be free and able to protect his king, or condemn him to what these nobles already believed him to be if he was caught. A coward and a traitor.

And so, on the first day, when they came to give him his bowl of brown, he'd stood and walked right up to the cell doors. The jailor had stopped when he saw him standing so close. He was a squat Carja, so round of chest and belly Uthid couldn't tell where one ended from the other. His nose had been broken so many times that if it weren't for the skin tone and stink of self-importance covering him like three day old Scrapper oil, Uthid might have mistaken him for an Oseram. One hairy hand gripped his bowl. The other a set of keys.

"Back," he barked.

"My name is Uthid. I am a General and an Envoy. This is illegal detainment for a man of my station. Release me to Lord Sudan's custody, where a delegation of just punishment can be carried out." He'd thought hard about this, how to present himself. Well, his Sun-King seemed fond of his directness, Vanasha as well (the memory of that half smile she got whenever he opened his lunk of a mouth in meetings was a ray of light in this sunless pit) so why fix what wasn't broken? The only downside was how much he hated pulling the same kind of entitled crap some lordling chuff would if he was caught poaching or doing whatever he wanted by Avad's city guards.

It seemed the jailor had no time for such nonsense either. "Back!" he barked again. When Uthid did not move, instead beginning his demands again, the jailor tossed his bowl at the cell bars. The wooden dish clanged against the metal. Thin brown liquid and bits of 'boar' slapped across the stone floor and Uthid's bare feet. Half of Uthid's daily rations, gone, while the jailor turned and stomped off, cackles chasing him.

The next time Uthid’s keeper visited, Uthid stood upon his slop stained floor with slop stained feet and repeated his demands. He was as clear and non-threatening as he could be. He gave the jailor the truth, and the jailor gave his meal to the floor in reply. He laughed as he walked off again, and when Uthid was sure he was gone, he bent and scooped up his food with the bowl he’d struggled through the bars that morning. It tasted like a Snapmaw’s undercarriage and bits of grit chipped against his teeth. But food was food.

The next day, the boots stomped in and Uthid stood, repeated his mantra, and picked his food off the floor. Twice a day, every day. Never changing. Always disgusting. Until the second week, and the jailor simply pushed the bowl through the slats instead of throwing it at the bars. Uthid’s words were ignored as usual but this time he got a full meal out of the deal.

He took it as a good sign and carried on, calling out his speech for the whole jail block to hear, even when the jailors were not close by. Somewhere an ear would be listening. What he didn’t realise until the fifth week was that it wasn’t that he’d broken them with the tenacity he’d become famous for while he was a free man. It was the boredom he’d instilled as a captive one. The jailor no longer wasted his food because it wasn’t fun anymore.

And yet, when he heard those boots, Uthid stood on shaky legs and began to speak. He didn’t know if the words were true anymore. He believed his Sun-King would look for him, he had no doubts of his monarch, the man he’d chosen to leave his home for after his past had betrayed him. Aloy was the best tracker he’d ever met, and Vanasha had whispers from every corner of the Sundom. But did the only people in the world he liked know if he was still alive?

Shadow was working with Avad. If his arrest had gone public, and he did not doubt the Nobleman’s affection for proving their superiority, the scout or spy or whatever Shadow was would have passed the information along by now.

So he would continue to stand and speak. He could wait another week, another month. He’d speak through the year, and then the next one. His Sun-King would come for him. If he didn’t, it would mean Uthid had failed in his life’s duty to keep his Radiance safe.

The jailor was not alone this time. With him was Nobleman Navis, who looked Uthid up and down, a satisfied look curling at the edges of his face. With only the bars between them, Uthid saw that he had pink, pulpy lips. They reminded him of the worms that wriggled up from the dirt after a rain. One look at that face told him it had been Navis who’d insisted they strip Uthid of his armour, war regalia and weapons, leaving him in his cloth under clothes.

Navis eyed Uthid, looking almost disappointed. “What? Nothing to say?”

“Not to you,” Uthid growled, his voice scratchy from overuse and little water.

“So the jailor gets to be graced with your words and I do not?” Navis looked to the jailor. “And you made him sound so inspiring.”

The jailor grunted.

“Where is Sudan?” Uthid demanded, tired of them talking about him like a common prisoner, like he wasn’t there behind those bars.

Navis raised an eyebrow, sufficiently unimpressed. “You’re not curious as to why I am here? You only want to see the fat man?”

“You may have fooled other people into thinking you’re important, but believe me when I say I care about as much as Bellowback runoff oil as I care about why you came down here,” Uthid declared calmly. With his connections, Navis could have Uthid detained here for another six weeks on those words alone, but in that moment Uthid didn’t care.

The jailor stared dumbly over Navis’s shoulder, while the nobleman himself sneered at Uthid through the bars. For a long moment the two held each other’s eyes, Navis resplendent in buffed and polished slate armour slashed with deep red inlays across the arm guards, sides and thighs, Uthid grizzled, greying hair too long and unkempt, wearing nothing but dirty cloth breeches and a shirt Uthid was sure was a sack with holes cut for the arms and his head. And then Navis gestured to the side, and two Kestrels appeared.

The jailor unlocked the door. The Kestrels shoved their way inside, unceremoniously bustling Uthid under the arms and hauling him out. The jailor locked heavy steel manacles around his wrists and ankles, then connected the chains to a lock that hung at his waist. Navis watched the whole time, but when the jailor made to step away, the nobleman held out his hand.

“And the neck.” The jailor paused, but moved quickly when Navis fixed him with a hard glare, locking a ring around Uthid’s neck, linking the locks with the others at Uthid’s waist.

Navis smiled in satisfaction.

Uthid stared unemotionally, defiantly, right back.

They marched him, step by awkwardly shallow step, up from the bowels of Sunfall’s palace. Uthid could barely shuffle, but he would not be pulled, glaring fearsomely if he thought his captors might attempt to. But the Kestrels rarely attempted to move him along, holding back almost. It was good to know that even at the most pathetic he’d been for almost half his life, Uthid could still instil enough authority to be let be.

They entered the ground floor of the palace, Uthid could feel it under his bare feet when the earth levelled and he was no longer underneath the world. He could feel some of his strength returning, but kept himself reserved, appearing as stubborn yet weakened by his treatment. They wouldn’t be answering his requests, he had to be ready for whatever they were leading him towards. If he had to fight he knew getting himself freed of the chains would be his top priority, armour second. His hands were powerful weapons, a spear or bow only made them deadlier, but his body was still only flesh. It would need to be protected.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked.

Navis walked ahead, cocking his head at the sudden gravely question after a long walk of silence. “To your fate,” he answered cryptically.

Theatrical chuff. Uthid did not bother to speak again, knowing Navis was revelling in his torture of keeping him in the dark, that the more questions Uthid asked, the more his desperation was obvious.

They took him through the halls, past the eyes of serving girls and bored recruits stuck on guard duty, past slaves scrubbing the tiles until they shone, only for Uthid to track grime over them as he was marched through. Would they know it wasn’t him who’d planned that, or was their misery so condemning they’d blame anyone simply to feel something else?

The halls fell behind them the more they twisted and turned into the palace. Uthid thought they might take him to the Shadowman’s court again, turn him into another spectacle as they deliberated, ponferated and fluffed about his fate, but no, they walked him past those doors, down a hallway slitted with windows on both sides, and out into blinding sunlight.

When his vision cleared, still burning after weeks locked under stone and mud, down where the sun couldn’t reach, he recognised where he was. In his youth he’d come to this courtyard for training, seen Jiran as a young princling watching from the balconies above the dust ring. After the liberation he’d trained Kestrels to call out in the name of Itamen as they stabbed or shot for the body – the head was too small a target. The training yards looked exactly as he remembered them. The targets for the archers were still lined up against the far western walls, the battlements above looking out over scores of sand. The spears were racked, there had been no morning drills.

Did they want the sand looking nice for Uthid? How thoughtful.

They brought him to the centre then forced him to his knees in the dirt. It grit against his knees uncomfortably, but considering the last six weeks, Uthid couldn’t complain too much. What he didn’t care for was the empty balconies above. Why bring him here if not to exact his punishment? Did they want this punishment public?

At the edge of the ring, bathed in shadows, Navis leaned towards a boy dressed in simple red silks. A runner, light and lithe. “Tell them he’s ready.”

The runner scampered off. Uthid watched until he couldn’t twist any further, then focused his gaze onto the sand beneath him. The boy had run towards the barracks, and Uthid doubted the noblemen liked to lounge there when not in meetings or wasting shards. Was that to be his fate? A punching bag for some recruits, a demonstration of what Sunfall did with traitors, even falsely accused ones?

Well, he’d give them the shock of their lives if they thought he’d go quietly, chains or no chains. They hadn’t covered his mouth, and his fingernails were uncut and sharp.

He heard doors opening and braced himself for the onslaught.

“The sun is bright, sirs, let us soak in its glow at least once before we get back to the tasks at hand. They are so abysmal in a day that is so dazzling. Surely we all deserve to bask and see what the day offers?”

That voice, it came from above, and Uthid knew it to be Sudan’s, and he could hear the other noblemen’s voices now, adding to his in nattering waves. So, they wanted their show after all. It made no difference to Uthid. He was ready to face them.

He was about to look up when another voice, insistent, firm, feminine, and one he’d missed so much it scorched away all his pains for a brief moment, sounded sharp and clear amongst the chatter.

“A break will not be necessary, Lord Sudan,” Vanasha’s voice floated down. “We are quite happy to keep the momentum of our work going. At this rate we may finish your first stipulation by sundow-”

He looked up the same moment she looked down. He locked her eyes before he truly saw her, dark and wide as they saw all of him, kneeling in the sand like a common thief, chained and grubby. His Radiance was beside her, and only then did Uthid’s shame of his situation rush upon him, the same moment their eyes widened as they looked down upon their once powerful general.

“Your Luminance!” Uthid rasped, struggling to his feet, only to be knocked down again by the Kestrels at his sides.

He was alive! Oh praise to the sun, the sky it housed in and anything else he could praise! Uthid had not failed him. His Sun-King was well. But why was he here?

“Get away!” Uthid shouted, struggling against the hands that held him. He was chained and weak, but he would not fail again. He’d protect his Sun-King down to his last heartbeat. “Return to Meridian, your Radiance! Get out! Get out!”

Avad, decorum be damned, rushed to the edge of the balcony. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

Vanasha was at his side in an instant. The shock was gone from her dark eyes, a cold fury falling into the space it had left.

To their credit, the nobles gave no trace of shock. Of course they wouldn’t. These were games to them, a way to truly rattle the Sun-King. Uthid could only imagine what they had geared up. He had no love for the way these people made their moves, acquired their favours, but he’d learned enough on a battlefield, and been in this wretched city longer than he wished, to recognise a strategy beginning to unfurl before him.

“We arrested a criminal,” Sudan said innocently, chins wobbling.

“He is my General,” Avad said, eyes blazing, the opposite of Vanasha’s calm. Her eyes had not left him, burning the brand of his disgrace deeper into his soul the longer she looked at him.

“He is a traitor, a would-be assassin, a murderer.” Sudan shook his head like he actually felt the distress he appeared to be suffering from. “Your Radiance, this man broke our laws, threatened our monarchy, conspired to- Oh what am I saying? This means nothing. Navis?”

The youngest nobleman stepped out of the shadows, into the light of the ring. He gestured to a slave, who brought forth a parchment rolled into the centre on both ends. Navis unfurled it and began to read.

“Uthid of Meridian, formerly Sunfall, once a member of Jiran, the true Sun-King’s armies, you are tried with the following crimes: The murder of fellow soldiers, deserting, attempted assassination, the murder of High-Priest Bahavis, defection, illegal entrance to our lands, the threatening or coercion of the officials of Sunfall, bribery, and being a traitor to the true Sundom.”

“He is guilty of none of those things!” Avad roared. “Release him back into my custody at once. This man is of my people.”

“Are we not all of your people, your Radiance?” Sudan asked, blinking with eyelids that were somehow also fat. “And, if you had listened, he has not been found guilty of his crimes, only tried.”

“Yet,” Vanasha finally spat. She turned on Sudan and the other nobles. “Out with it. You bring us out here for a farce. You know as well as we do that Bahavis was a liar and those claims false. Post us his bail and we will match it.”

Uthid felt his heart lift, and without his permission beat faster for the beautiful woman fighting his case. It was so hard being the only direct one. Her spirit was the wall he had not been able to rest against for the duration of their separation.

Sudan matched Vanasha’s stare with a confused expression. “My lady, I do not mean to offend, but you appear confused. We at Sunfall do not offer men accused the chance to go free, not when we are uncertain of their guilt. There will be no bail.”

“So you decide his fate without evidence?” Vanasha would not back down. She was not known to, even in Sunfall.

“He will be tried. If the sun knows he is true, then he has nothing to fear.” The other nobles nodded at the words.

Vanasha looked ready to spit on the pious sentiment, anger boiling from every pour until thid found himself fearing for the noblemen within her reach. But, miraculously, she turned back to the railing, griping it as she leaned down to look at Uthid. “Then let us hope he shines bright and clear, and no clouds obstruct the justice of his rays.”

Uthid swallowed thickly. He wanted to cry out her name in relief, and yell at her to leave this ring all at once. He could not bear the way she and his Sun-King were looking at him. A General was not meant to be looked upon like a fox pup with its paw caught under a boulder by the ones he was supposed to protect. Just put him down and be done with it, if only to escape those eyes.

“When is his trial?” Avad asked, voice shaking as he fought to remain calm.

“It will commence this week,” nobleman Cahill supplied in his wavering voice.

“How long it will last remains up to the sun,” Sudan finished, his piggy eyes locked on Uthid, a smile wedged between his many chins and his bulbous nose.

Uthid had gone through every plan he could conceive and settled on the one with least bloodshed, he had chosen the noble he thought he could stand a chance of convincing, and planned for a battle he could fight.

And he had lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	19. Aloy

Her escort pretended she wasn't there and walked the halls with his arms behind his back. From every angle Aloy could conceive of a way to attack him, and in every imagining he wouldn't be able to get his hands up in time to defend himself. The Carja had always baffled her; Their hunters claimed to be the stealthiest, the quickest and the sharpest shot, their fighters claimed to be the best brawlers and grapplers (as if they'd never met an Oseram) and their Artisans claimed to spin gold from steel.   
  
And yet they walked with their hands behind their backs.

The hallways of Sunfall did their best to mimic Meridian's palace, their ceilings so high a Stormbird could take roost, the stone a sun baked gold and thick enough to stop a Trampler’s charge. She could feel the tiles under her slipper clad feet, warm from the sun and smooth from patrol after patrol of Kestrels. She thought, with some satisfaction, that their patrols seemed more insistent after the fall of their leader. Fearing another collapse, perhaps? Or another embarrassment. She let her satisfaction show on her face whenever she passed a squad moving down the halls, no Kestrel mask to hide her this time.

Koa’s claws clicked as he rambled beside her, tongue lolling in the intense North-Western heat.

There was, however, one large difference between Sunfall and Meridian. Though built in its image, Sunfall's walls were covered in tapestries of a figure absent in the Holy Mesa's rooms, all except for one Sun-King's bedroom.

The Sunspear on a ridge with a burning sun behind him.   
  
The Sunspear wrangling a Ravager with metal wire.   
  
The Sunspear leaping from the point of Meridian's spire, spear drawn as he plummeted towards the Stormbird attacking the city below.

The Sunspear mounted on the back of a Thunderjaw. 

Aloy looked at the last one absurdly. Even overridden, she had yet to figure out the mechanics of getting atop a Thunderjaw.

The walls were covered in the works of art. Aloy supposed it made sense, the Sunspear being Jiran's elite of the elite for the entirety of his reign. If even half of these tapestries depicted truth, Aloy would almost find herself impressed. But then she remembered the data-file, and the beginnings of admiration turned to bile in her mouth.

Her escort, now at the end of the hallway, turned when he noticed she was no longer following. "Do not dawdle, Nora." He spat the words with the usual venom that accompanied the unspoken savage most, if not all, Shadow-Carja addressed her as. 

Aloy did not jog to catch up, but she took the lesson in diplomacy from Avad's calm compliance and walked to where her escort waited, chin up, trying for a comfortable smile. She had no doubt it looked nothing like Avad's easy tilt. Her mind was too filled with corridors leading to tucked away rooms, bunkers were Artemis might be, Kestrels that looked at her a little too resentfully. She was never good at hiding what she was thinking. Luckily, her escort was ahead of her, walking with his hands behind his back.

He swivelled at a staircase made completely of iron that twisted in one long loop up to a single doorway. Aloy made a face when she realized he was heading for it, and was already looking for the best spot she could leap off of it if the chance for a quick escape was needed. She wouldn't wait to be tangled up in such a silly device. The part of her brain that she attributed most of her most unbelievable escapes too (the part Vanasha called her paranoia) rose to point out that giving her such a ridiculous, cumbersome way in and out of her rooms was probably done on purpose by the Shadow-Carja.

Koa struggled on the slick metal staircase, grunting and snuffling as he squeezed his huge frame around the rod that speared down the centre of the staircase to create the way it twisted. Aloy had to help him plant his paws. 

Her escort stopped at the doorway. The balcony at the head of the stairs was so slim Aloy didn't bother stepping up onto it, giving the Carja man an expectant look. He cleared his throat, though it sounded more like an irritated growl, and awkwardly stepped around her. He pressed himself as far back into the stairs railing as he could to skirt around Koa.

"These will be your quarters. Do try not to break anything inside."

"Does this contraption count?" Aloy asked, tapping an arrowhead against the iron bars that held the staircase to the balcony. It rang with a sharp ring that made Koa’s ear twitch.

To his credit, the escort did not scowl. "Would you prefer a rope to climb?"

Aloy pulled on her best diplomatic smile. "No need. I know how you Caja hate to scuff your nails."

It was unnecessary, but it felt good to see his face before she turned and walked into the room, Koa on her heels. It reminded her of her victory over Resh right before the proving. That, and her actual victory, right before the massacre

            ( _and Rost’s death_ )

were the memories of that day she tried to hold on to.

The room was similar to her quarters at Meridian, furthering her suspicion they had chosen it specifically for the Nora. They’d stripped the straight edged room that filed down to a set of veranda doors of vases, bowls, tapestries, paintings, rugs, statues, sculptures, furniture and paintings; anything that could be burned or broken that wasn’t built into the stone itself. All that was left was a bed, a stone basin built into the wall, and a metal table and two chairs.

One was occupied by a slight, young woman who poked at a table setting of only a spoon and an empty plate, looking at it like its bareness confused her.

Aloy waited to be noticed, but apparently whatever was reflecting back at the girl was much too interesting to look away from. She shifted her pack from her shoulder and let it fall to the ground with a heavy thump.

“Oh!” The girl bound to her feet, knocked her chair to the stone floor, hip-checked the table and sent the plate and spoon spinning into the air. She squawked, scrambling for the flying saucers, arms flailing and failing to stop them from clattering to the ground, yet when she caught sight of Koa, dropped the plate she’d been able to grab with another startled screech. When she looked up she could barely meet Aloy’s eye. “H-Hello...”

Aloy didn’t blink. “You’re the one they said would receive me?”

The girl made a pitiful attempt at puffing out her chest. “Y-yes. I was chosen to be your handmaiden because-because I am a hard-worker and a good maid. I have an eye for Carja etiquette on account of my father being one of Jiran’s stewards during his reign.” She was going rapid fire, so fast Aloy was waiting to see if she would stop to breathe. “I can keep your rooms clean, help you conduct yourself in the court, brush your hair, make your meals, change your linens, clean your clothes and-”

“Slow down,” Aloy said, holding up her hand. The girl’s mouth snapped shut like the kickback on a Rattler, and she seemed to shrink into herself, her eyes dark brown and nervous as they tried to look at Aloy and the creature at her heel at the same time. Aloy tried to make her next words sound less threatening to this human equivalent of a mouse. “Let’s start with your name.”

The girl blinked. “My... Oh, yeah, of course! Lucani Sedeen.”

“Lucani,” Aloy repeated, testing the pronunciation on her tongue.

“Luce is good, too,” the girl said, looking at the ground sheepishly.

“Luce,” Aloy repeated, and Luce’s eyes lifted from the floor sheepishly. “Look, Luce, you seem... enthusiastic, but I don’t need a maid.”

Even as her face dropped, Luce still held on to a sense of soft beauty, her full eyebrows drawing together while plump lips pouted. "B-But I have been assigned to you, to be your maid and to attend to you and do as you say during your stay."

"Well I'm saying I don't need a maid," Aloy said, trying for kindly. From Luce's wince she knew she'd missed that mark. "Do you have someone else you could attend?"

The young girl's face was as miserable as her tone. "I am owned by house Navis, but the nobles agreed that I be part of the collective servants chosen to attend to the Sun-King and his retinue during their stay."

_The Sun-King,_ Aloy noted. This girl was probably the first Sunfall native to obligingly call Avad by his true title. "I have not heard of this house."

Truthfully, she had never heard of someone be referred to in such a way. She was known by the title's she'd earned or the tribe she hailed from, neither of which particularly suited. A tribe at least lived, but who would ever want to be named after a house?

Luce made a face. "You will soon. He sits meetings with the other nobles but they rarely listen to his council. He’s young, you see, and they value experience and cunning over brute force after Helis’s methods failed them. Navis is the one gunning for the captives execution."

"He wants to kill Uthid?" Aloy snapped so sharply that Luce cringed back, like she feared the words could become something worse. 

"N-Not in so many words," Luce answered hesitantly. "He hasn't stated outright, but if I know that family," she said with a twinge of disgust to colour her words, "then he's going to want to back the capti-pris-obtained into a corner until he has no choice but to demand a blood trial."

"Blood trial?" Aloy repeated, but a sinking weight was already filling her stomach.

"It's a tradition of the Sun-Rings," Luce said. She wouldn't look at Aloy. "An old one. It dates back to the age of the Blooded."

"The Blooded?" Aloy interrupted.

"Oh, right," Luce stumbled over the words. "It's full name is Blooded Sun. To be Blooded Sun is to have the blood of the first Carja's, those who fled from the sava-I mean- our old home in the east, and came to the west to rebuild and create Holy Meridian. Those whose bloodlines are purist are the Blooded Sun."

"And Navis is one of them?" Aloy filled in.

"He claims to be," Luce answered with a shrug. "It's been centuries since our migration and there is no way to know for sure. They say the line of Sun-Kings is the last Blooded Sun line to remain unbroken. Other's claim the Sunspear was the only Blooded to truly survive and has lived throughout the centuries perfecting his arts. The stories get mixed up so much that anyone within the Sundom could claim they are a Blooded Sun and no one could say otherwise."

"Especially a nobleman with something to prove," Aloy sighed. She’d known lesser men who were desperate to prove their skill, worth, and power, and those lesser men got angry when anything got in the way of that. Looking at Lucani’s downcast, fearful expression, Aloy could see the young woman already knew Navis was one of those men. “You’d have to go back into House Navis’s service if I dismiss you?”

Luce nodded to the floor.

Aloy sighed. “Well, I’ve been standing here for ten minutes and you have yet to take my things.”

Saying words a Sundom spoiled sprat would spit out before saying good morning to their mother tasted like bitter bark and machine oil swallowed in the same gulp. But the way Luce’s eyes lit up before she grabbed for Aloy’s pack and quiver made it go down a little easier. She spilled arrows as she juggled both to a huge carved stone wardrobe, dropping the near empty quiver to the ground so she could unceremoniously stuff Aloy’s furs, leathers and armours onto the hooks and into the cubbies.

“Is it all humans who can’t hold things? Or just these ones?”

Aloy’s ear warmed, and then a small blue figure was before her. It’s voice was feminine and it’d taken the shape of a woman with a soft circular face and hair that flowed into pixels. She circled near Aloy’s head, keeping within range of her Focus. It was barely a hand’s span tall. She – Aloy could not help but think of this data-scan or holo-projection as a she – was dressed in a simple cut dress that came down to mid-calf and, like her hair, fell away into pixels, yet her feet, hands and face had a clearly cut distinction.

This girl had barely seen twenty-five years, and she looked nothing like GAIA.

Aloy frowned as the shape stepped across the air like she was walking on the ground, twisting when Aloy didn’t answer her. “Well? Is it because she’s a shadow? That’s what you call her, isn’t it?” Her voice was light, and was she... yes, she was whispering. Did she fear Luce would hear her? “You can tell me. I won’t say anything. Is she a ghost? Does she drop things because her soul is leaving? Or is it because the sun can’t break the stone so the shadow is weak?”

Aloy blinked, words lost for a moment. Her silence caused the holo to pout, and she walked across the air until she was eye to eye with her. “Aloy, you’re ignoring me.”

Aloy started. “What did you say?”

“I asked with you wanted your weapons stored with your armours?” Luce called over her shoulder, looking through the floating woman and at Aloy’s stunned face. “Miss... uh, what’s your last name?”

“Wh-what?” Aloy broke the eye contact with the holo.

Luce frowned, looking concerned. “I asked for your last name.”

“I’m Nora,” Aloy said for answer.

“All Nora share the same last name?” Luce asked.

“No,” Aloy said, struggling to keep her focus on Luce as the holo continued to hover before her eyes. “There are no other names. When we introduce ourselves we say...” She grimaced. “Aloy of the Nora.”

“Oh.” Luce shrugged amiably and turned back to her task. “You know what, I’ll put the weapons in a separate place, someplace close. Hopefully you won’t have to use them, but if you gotta grab them quick it’ll be good not to have them all tangled up together.”

At least she could be practical, it just took her some time to get there.

Aloy returned her attention to the holo, but it had moved, walking down through the air like it was a set of stairs, until it floated before Koa’s dark muzzle.

Aloy watched her. “You can talk to me.”

“Talk. Is that what this is called? Talk. Talk. Talk. One sound to express so many others.” The holo looked over her shoulder, back to Luce. “You never answered my question about the shadow girl.”

“She... she’s a Shadow-Carja. The Carja are a tribe and the Shadow-Carja are a splinter tribe from them. It’s a complicated history.”

The holo made a face. “I don’t know what any of that means, but it sounds boring.”

“You’re a...” Aloy paused. “Well, I’m not sure, but you can’t be bored... Can you?”

The holo shrugged, just like it had watched Luce do. “I don’t know. I’m bored right now. Kinda makes what you just said moot. Funny, huh? Let’s go do something. Oh! We could go looking for that thingy you wanted to find.”

It was funny, though not haha funny. What was she supposed to make of a holo that seemed to live inside her Focus, and was able to remember things from weeks ago? She was learning too, watching people and copying their movements. She was watching Luce now, and giggled when the Shadow-Carja pricked her finger on an arrowhead.

“Oh she’s so fun! Wait, what is she doing?” The holo’s head cocked as it watched Luce put her finger in her mouth. “Wait, human’s don’t drink blood. Do they? Oh, there’s so much I still can’t remember. I know you have blood, but I can’t remember what blood is. Can you drink it? Rat’s, you’re all so strange. Drinking some things but not others, then leaking those things out when you think no one is watching. By the way, what’s a rat?”

“You... remember things?” Aloy asked.

The holo frowned at her. “No. Weren’t you listening?”

Carefully, making sure Luce was still focused on putting away her things, Aloy backed out through the open door, signalling for Koa to pad after her. “I figured you were saying your thoughts out loud.” _Like Luce just did._ “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“But you did eavesdrop,” the holo said. “That’s very impolite. I was gracious enough to at least ask what you were thinking.”

“Holo’s don’t know what politeness means!”

The holo pointed at her. “Impolite.”

Aloy rolled her eyes as she slipped from her quarters. What was the worst the maid could do to some clothes? Set them on fire? Aloy paused on the rungs of the staircase. After seeing the mess Luce had made of her dining table, Aloy wasn’t so sure what her maid might do while not supervised.

The holo walked through the air alongside her head. She peered at every tapestry, skipped to the square windows in the walls to sneak a peek at the outside world. Sometimes she couldn’t help but stay there for minutes at a time, marvelling at a world so much bigger than every room they passed, before she’d scamper back to Aloy to blabber on all she had seen.

As when Aloy had come with her escort, Kestrels walked the halls like machines stuck to their paths. Without someone to keep an eye on her, the Kestrels glared more fiercely at the intruder. She did her best to ignore them, and with Koa by her side the patrols kept their distance. But every new path she took, there was another patrol moving through her way.

As she moved through an arched doorway and out into a courtyard, the holo zipped through the air, coming to rest on Aloy’s shoulder. There was no weight that Aloy could feel as the holo settled herself primly down, her legs folding under her blue, translucent body. Her tiny eyebrows closed together in a thoughtful expression. “You called me Holo, but last time I was awake you called me... something else?”

“I called you GAIA,” Aloy said as she began to ascend a familiar set of stone steps. Below her the Sun-Ring was raked flat, the sand undisturbed. The holo nodded thoughtfully, but she still had that look of uncertainty. “That’s... is that your name?”

“I don’t know... I remember so little of anything, but something about that name is familiar. Do you think I dreamed it?”

Aloy decided it would be a waste of breathe to say that holo’s couldn’t dream. “Is that what you would like me to call you?” she asked instead, pretending not to see the squad of Kestrels moving to descend the staircase. They passed without a word, but she could feel their eyes on her until she turned the corner.

The balcony where two Oseram mercenaries had joked that losing an eye was an occupational hazard of their work glinted gold in the sunlight, but all Aloy remembered was blood and the roar of the crowds as Helis released the Behemoth on her as he stood upon that framework.

“I don’t know. I-” A ripple ran through the translucent image, distorting the holo from head to toe. She looked up at Aloy. “Oh dear,” she sighed. “I’ve been up far too long. I’m about to fall asleep again.” She rippled again, more violently this time. Her face lost its concentration, becoming blank for a split second, then refocused. “I’ll try to have a better answer for you when I wake up. Do keep looking for this thingy. It’s way more interesting than shadow people or-”

She was gone in a blink. Aloy was alone with Koa atop Sunfall’s noble viewing stage for the Sun-Ring, at least until the next Kestrel patrol passed her by.

“You there, savage,” one snapped with the authority of someone who’d been a soldier for a while.

Aloy turned on the guard. She placed him as older than her by some years, though his feathered mask covered any signs of wrinkles. “Yes, lackey?” she snapped back.

The soldier sneered at her but made no move to approach as Koa shuffled to stand before his master. “This is restricted grounds. The noblemen of Sunfall have prohibited any access of this balcony to civilians.”

“My mistake. The last time I was hear all could enter the Sun’s courtyard and chambers,” Aloy said, drudging up again her diplomats voice. “I will make myself scarce.”

She made to move towards the bottom of the balcony, where she knew a vent lay open below. Inside she could begin her mission of locating Artemis, begin the reason she came here. When HADES broke the chains the Sub-Functions scattered. But HADES could be found, was found, by Sylens. Artemis would be found, and Aloy would be damned if it was by anyone else but her.

“I said stop!” the Kestrel barked.

Aloy, fighting against the urge to draw her bow and silence this equivalent of a disgruntled fox, did as he said. She forced her face flat, knowing that if she let any emotion through it would only fuel this soldier’s up-jumped sense of superiority at the frustration she was struggling to contain. Koa began to growl, low and dangerous in his throat, so she laid a placating hand on his soft brown head.

The soldier relaxed a little at her compliance, straightening up, holding his spear with less aggression than before. “No access means no access, savage. Move along. Now.”

She thought about just going into the vent anyway. Nothing had ever stopped her before. Then she remembered that there was about fifteen within this patrol and she was one Nora. She also remembered that if she screwed up this mission into Sunfall on the first day Avad would never forgive her, no matter how gracious he was.

Too much was at stake to be rash. This wasn’t a place that she could draw her bow and rely on her skill, on the land, on the machines she could get to. Uthid. The Reforms. Artemis. Koa. Meridian’s relationship with Sunfall.

With a crushing hopelessness, Aloy realised how fragile all of this, everything Avad was working towards, was. Feeling her disgust mount for the third time in a day, she turned around and slunk back down the steps.

She’d find Sylens and fix this quietly. Follow their rules today, break them in half with her spear tomorrow.

Nothing would stop her from getting into that bunker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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